


Hypocritical Happiness

by terryreviews



Series: Vampire and Hunter [17]
Category: Fright Night (2011), Twilight (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Assisted Suicide, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Making Love, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags can and will change as the story develops and I cannot gaurantee exactly what that will entail, Vincturi, it most likely will have some dark and tragic things, please be aware of the author's notes in each chapter, tags will be updated as story progresses to reflect changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 26,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: For Peter to be happy, he must be a hypocrite.
Relationships: Aro (Twilight)/Peter Vincent
Series: Vampire and Hunter [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539046
Comments: 169
Kudos: 134





	1. Sober and Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I am honestly uncertain of where this long fic is going to go, what it will involve, whether it will include certain elements like sex or violence or whatever, so be aware as the story progresses, tags/rating will change as time goes on to reflect ideas/adaptions going forward. I suspect, given that this is a vampire/hunter story that yes, violence, death, and of course their complicated love life will intermingle/develop as the story progresses, I am just not 100% sure where it will all fit in.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your support and patience. I hope that you enjoy.

In an interview, Peter Vincent once said _dead_ in response to _where do you see yourself in five years?_ He laughed and split a bottle of whiskey with the interviewer.

He was thirty then.

He was thirty five now. Sober and very much alive.

Worse still? He was happy.

Playing house with a vampire and, not only enjoying it but even going one step further and falling in love with the bastard. Only so many times you can sleep next to Nosferatu before you stop denying the truth.

That didn't mean he had to be proud of himself for it. Yes, his heart did little flips, his cock twitched in his trousers, he slept more peacefully, he'd never felt more wanted/safe in his entire life than he did in this last...five? Six? Months. He couldn't even be sure how long he'd been living in this house, with his vampire boyfriend, but he knew it had been a long while.

What made it even worse for Peter is the fact that he had become almost a homebody. Trips to the rec center, grocery store, a walk in the park, all nice, but all so domestic.

There was a part of him that wanted to break out, do something more exciting, riskier, and perhaps, help his guilty conscience. 

He didn't deserve to be happy. Especially at the cost of his morality. When he'd taken up vampire hunting, it was with the intent of cleansing himself of the guilt he felt for his cowardice, his inaction in several situations. That, and knowing definitively that monsters existed, didn't allow him to sleep well at night. If he could take out even just one more, then one more, than one more, blood-sucking demon, maybe he could spare others from what he'd gone through. And here he was, just a step away from marrying one of them.

Fuck. Times like this he wished he'd kept on drinking.


	2. Thinking is a Passtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aro's perspective hasn't truly been explored in a lot of the drabbles. I know that it is technically third person and it floats between the two of them, but I wanted a good, solid, Aro fixated chapter that would begin the set up for the rest of the story.

_'Tis better to have loved and lost_

_Than never to have loved at all_

  * Tennyson




Aro moved to Peter's room, to the vanity where Peter would get himself and Aro ready for days out. His eyes roved over the mess, fingers brushed over a tube of lipstick. Currently, Peter was out with Mike and his family at some sporting event. He had tried to convince Aro to join.

“ _Babe, I got you a jersey and everything._ ”

“ _Maybe I will wear it for you later. I know how you enjoy me in more casual attire.”_

_Peter smirked, letting out a little growl as he wrapped an arm around Aro's waist._

“ _Promises.” With a kiss, he let go and said, “I'll hold you to it. Catch you later. Be back around seven.”_

Left alone in the house meant to be left alone with his thoughts. He was old, thinking was one of his most common pass time.

Seeing the hairbrush, he raised his hand, hesitated, and then took the handle, bringing it to his eyes for closer inspection. Not that he couldn't already see what was there, but he just didn't want to believe it.

A singular gray tinged hair.

Peter, flaws and all, was his. Someone to be protected and treasured. Someone that revitalized him in ways that he never could have imagined. A being that had all but slowed time down for him with the novelty of his existence and what he chose to do with it.

However, there were things he couldn't protect Peter from. Age, illness, injury, and of course, Peter's own reckless abandon. When the man was far more active in his hunting, he often charged in blindly, outnumbered, relying on quick wit rather than any tact. True, he'd always managed a win, hence his still existing, but there was a part of him that was grateful that Peter had all but given up his quest for vengeance.

Not that he couldn't tell it lingered. Peter still didn't like to talk. Not long nor deep. True he was coming around. True he had stopped denying how he felt. But Peter still remained guarded. A long fostered habit for the man. There had been glimpses, vulnerabilities, but never any lengthy discussion on any subject. Aro still wasn't allowed to touch him without gloves.

Aro almost wished that he could cease to care. He hadn't cared this deeply, this illogically, for... a very long time. Yes, he cared for Jane and Alec, being his adoptive children in a sense, but this was a different love. A passion that burned.

At first, when he hired Peter, he thought it would be all blood and lust and mutual benefit and yet...the man charmed him. Won him over with his curses and disrespect, his strength of will and character when it mattered. It should disgust him, anger him, that his base attraction to the mortal blossomed into something far more meaningful. A friendship full of teasing and innuendo and now he was practically in the palm of this human and Aro put himself there.

With a growl, he placed the brush back onto the vanity.

He should have gone to the event. He did not care for sports but he had such little time with Peter as it was. He should really be making more use of it while he had it.

His eyes focused on that gray hair, glittering in the afternoon light seeping through the blinds of the room.

Then again, he mused, perhaps he didn't have to _make use_ of anything. Not if he could keep Peter with him.

With a sigh, he went to Peter's bed, enjoying the musky scent of the man, and laid down, closed his eyes, and began to think. It would be a number of hours yet before Peter came home after all and he needed to figure out what he would say once he did.


	3. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where things are going to start changing and I have to think about where the story is potentially heading. Bit darker implications and things going forward.

Peter shut the door behind him with a content sigh. Flipping the switch, the room flooded with light and he hung his coat up on the rack, kicked his shoes off.

“Babe?”

“Your room dear.”

Taking stairs two at a time (thanks to Mike who made sure leg day wasn't missed) he was upstairs in a blink.

“What're you doing laying in the dark?” Peter's hand hovered over the switch. The energy was _wrong_ , heavy. His mind, still alight with the crowd, the thrill of the game, laughing with his friends, resisted being pulled down. He approached cautiously before climbing into the bed, leaving the light off. He had the feeling whatever was about to happen would be easier in the dark.

“Thinking.” The word came out crisp, articulate, Peter's stomach clenched.

He wanted to pull Aro closer, let his head rest on his shoulder. He settled for pressing against his side, resting his back against the headboard.

“Ut-oh.”

In the dim light filtering from the hallway and through the blinds of the half-moon, Peter could see Aro's smirk.

“I assure you it is not as dire as you imagine. I was thinking of you.”

“Double ut-oh, what did I do?” He smiled when Aro let out a breathy giggle.

“Judging by that reaction, something I don't know about.” With a little sigh, something he did when he wanted to convey his emotions blatantly, he said, “it is nothing you _did_. It is something you cannot help.”

Peter tilted his head, wanting more than ever to turn on the light.

Aro turned his upper body better to watch Peter. He could hear his heart begin a frantic thrum, “you're nervous.”

Peter's voice warbled, “got a feeling I'm not going to like where this is going.”

“Perhaps not,” Aro conceded as he reached down to take Peter's hands in his, feeling the warmth through his gloves, “but it needs to be discussed.”

“What does?”

Aro looked away, eyes fixating on some imaginary point across the room as he contemplated his reply.

Unblinking and still as stone, it was at least a minute before he spoke, doing nothing for Peter's nerves in the meantime.

“I found a gray hair in your hairbrush this morning.”

Peter's laugh, shrill and short, bounced off the walls in a manic echo. A pike of fear tang-ing his scent.

“Well, I'm not twenty anymore,” he said, “it happens.”

“Yes,” Aro's focus back on Peter, “I suppose it does.”

“Don't.”

Aro blinked, “beg pardon?” he watched as Peter scrambled out of bed and hit the switch. Immediately the room was bright and while Aro could see more than fine in the dark, he always appreciated the increased details light afforded him. Especially in terms of Peter's beauty. Now, however, the mortal's eyes stood out. Pupils were dilated, the wrinkles of his forehead seemed deeper, as were his laugh lines, his panic etched in his expression and the way he paced back and forth, running hands through his hair. Not looking at Aro.

“Please don't. I know where this is going. I'm begging you,” Peter's cheeks glistened, “I'll get on my knees, just don't.”

Even in dark or drunk moments, there was a certain pride he carried himself with. Anger fueling him rather than fear when he'd interacted with Aro in the past. Not many mortals brave enough to tell him fuck off. But here, Peter was trembling, crying. He'd seen Peter's tears before, but not like this. While Peter had always remained cautious, he had never been scared like this. Never this afraid of Aro.

“Peter,” Aro used the voice he employed when coaxing Peter out of his nightmares. Empathetic, patient, “calm down.”

“Calm down?” he stopped pacing and gaped at the vampire in his bed, “I'll calm down if you don't go where we both know you were going!”

“Breathe, Peter, I am not going to do anything to you.” He resisted getting frustrated when Peter eyed him, making a disbelieving sound, “I swear to you. I only wish to talk.” he patted the bed next to him.

When Peter hesitated, “come now dear, have I  _ever_ harmed you or led you to believe I had anything other than the best intentions for you?”

“It's the intentions I'm worried about,” even still, his heartbeat was returning to normal, his breath slowing. Tears still in his eyes, he moved, jerkily, back to the bed.

He  _almost_ went out the door, but Aro was right, he'd never made a move against Peter. In fact, one could around Aro was damn near whipped. At least in matters concerning Peter. So, knees still knocking, he climbed back in next to Aro. He had trusted the vampire this far, he could afford to give the benefit of the doubt.

“Thank you love,” Aro cooed, draping an arm over Peter's shoulder, “nothing to be concerned about.” with a light pull, Peter rested his head against Aro's shoulder. Muscles still tense, but he didn't want to run anymore.

Once sure Peter was calm enough to listen, Aro began.

“I am very old Peter. I have seen and experienced a vast array of things in my long life. At some point, I should tell you stories, give you a full appreciation of my life and why it is so significant that we are lovers.” Aro paused. Though he had ample hours to rehearse what he wanted to say, the actual process was more difficult than anticipated. “There are few things that are precious to me. Least of all mortals. Save you. If illness or old age doesn't claim you, a misstep could.” he felt Peter against him, overly warm with his fear being to rise again, “I know full well the fragility of life, Peter. How you could be here one moment and vanish the next as if you never existed.”

Peter pushed against his shoulder, raising himself up off of Aro.

Aro took his hand before he could flee, gently stroking the knuckles, “I am not going to change you. Not yet.”

“Not ever!” Peter tried to pull his hand away and only found himself once again against Aro, the vampire wrapping his arms around him in a hug. His cool lips brushing against Peter's neck, and Peter squeaked.

“I want you to think about it,” he kissed Peter's neck, ignoring the flinch, “please Peter. Do me that courtesy and think about it. Promise me.”

There was silence save for Peter's heart. After a moment though, he drew in a breath and said,

“I...I promise.”


	4. Not Thinking on It

Peter was not thinking about it.

In three weeks, the subject did not come up. Through overcompensating friendliness and avoidance Peter ignored it and hoped it would go away.

Progress, in Aro favor, couldn't be gained if he weren't allowed to present his case.

Since he'd sat down and contemplated the situation, a sense of urgency grew. Every action, inaction, bump, and bruise of his human weighed on him.

Peter, for all his wonderful qualities, was human. One that was prone to self-destruction.

With the vast improvements made over the last few months, he wished he could have blind faith in his lover's strength of will. However, history repeats. All it could take is one bad day for Peter to spiral down back into the bottle or for an attack to catch him by surprise or any number of things to abruptly end their already limited time together.

To say he was frustrated would be an understatement. Coupled with a sincere effort to be patient, not his strong suit and already being pressed since moving in with Peter.

He was Aro Volturi, though, and biding his time to achieve an ultimate goal was not foreign to him. It was the nature of this situation. To delay with Peter could spell disaster.

They, currently, were heading to the theater. _Some artsy movie you'd like_ , Peter said. Most likely, it was to serve as a distraction, pretend nothing had changed between them. Who Peter was trying to fool, that was left to interpretation.


	5. Show Me Those Things pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are on the cusp of a serious talk, but Peter isn't in the mood for talking. No. Rather, he's into distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I have the tendency to separate the sex scenes between set up and then the actual sexual act. I honestly prefer it this way because it gives me time to build tension and then really carefully craft the scene into something unique that fits with whatever pairing I happen to be using that time. I want most of my scenes to come across as a good fit for the characters whilst also being titalating.

Ginger. It wasn't often his dead wife passed his thoughts but when she did, it was sudden and left cold inside his heart.

At the beginning of their marriage, they acted the parts of affectionate lovers, duping the public and hoping to dupe themselves. Young, hot, and talented, they made a powerful couple. Over the years, once they stopped lying to themselves and each other, they learned to work around the dysfunction until it was second nature.

She married him for money. He married her for image and a need for companionship, even if they hated each other.

With all the things he had been forced to think about lately, she came into his mind. A flash of her face, a brief smile. He found himself in Aro's room before his thoughts could spiral.

“Peter!” Aro put his book to the side, sitting straight up in bed, “come here dearest,” he patted the bed.

The second he was in bed Aro pulled him closer. He'd known the man long enough to know when bad dreams and memories haunted him and he needed some sort of comfort.

Instead of commenting on the lack of intimacy in the last few weeks since their conversation he simply asked, “what is the matter?”

“Don't want to talk about it.” he heard the click of Aro's tongue.

“When do you ever?” Before Peter could respond he added, “Peter, you and I both know that you will talk to me. Be it today or tomorrow. You want to talk to me, I want you to talk to me, why else are you in here? You know that I am listening yes? You know that I care about you, want to listen and help you.”

Peter tried to squirm out from that comforting embrace around his shoulder that had him pressed against the vampire's chest.

“Peter,” Aro chided, placing a kiss to Peter's forehead, pulling Peter firmer down until the struggles ceased, “please?”

“It's stupid and weak. I'm tired of being so fucking weak.” Peter's voice, rough and angry.

“You are not weak. Despite all of your trauma, you've pulled yourself out of the jaws of despair and look at you now.” Admittedly, offering comfort was strange new territory for Aro. He did not offer it often, if at all, save for a select few and even then it was exceedingly rare. If only Peter could understand that he too was reconciling memories, complex emotions, and how truly remarkable it was that they were sharing a mutual moment of emotional vulnerability. How _soft_ Peter made him.

“Yeah,” he scoffed, nuzzling his face into Aro's chest, bringing his arm to wrap along Aro's waist, “look at me.”

“You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“Sure.”

“Peter, if this is about something in your past,” Aro brought his hand up to start stroking through Peter's hair, a thing that he learned very quickly was one of Peter's weaknesses, “you cannot change it,” he pondered how best to continue, to make Peter calm down and smile, “remember that film with the animated lions you showed me?”

He felt Peter's body convulse with a sharp laugh, “The Lion King?”

“That's the one. You would figure a grown man would have learned the lesson of a children's movie.”

“Watch it,” he paused, “what are you talking about?”

“The past can hurt. You can run from it or learn from it. It will periodically plague you. Contrary to belief, I do understand this,” a flicker of memory tainted with remorse passed his mind and was let go in favor of focusing on Peter once again, “however, simply by you being here, you have. I will not pretend that it will all go away one day, that you will never have a painful recollection, or guilt, or sadness over the past and your part in it. Try, though, in those moments, to remember you are not weak. You cannot change what happened but you have improved and that is remarkable. I am very proud of you Peter Vincent.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, as he tended to do after Aro explained something, or talked to him, doing his best to listen and think about what was said.

With a sigh, he said, “thanks.”

“You are welcome. Do you want to tell me what brought this about?”

“Not really. Mind's been wandering since,” he cut himself off as if not saying it out loud would make it go away.

“Since my request that you _think about it_.”

“Right,” he said, body relaxing a fraction against Aro, simultaneously wanting and resisting the comfort he desperately craved from Aro, “so a lot of things are going on.”

“Pretending this is not happening being one of them.” Aro did not wish to break the tension in such a passive-aggressive manner, but progress needed to happen and while Peter was being so forthcoming, he might as well press the advantage.

“Oi,” this time when Peter went to rise, he was able, “it's a lot to think about okay? Who says I'm not thinking about it? Just because I didn't give you an answer the next day or whatever, doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it for Christ's sake! I wouldn't be in here right now if I hadn't been thinking about it okay!” A properly offended, angry, Peter, glaring and red face, had not made an appearance in a while.

Aro held up his hand, “my mistake. I apologize. Can you blame me for my assumption, however? You have a tendency to avoid serious conversations. When we do have them, they are not always as open as they should be, save for a few times.”

Peter's nostrils flared but he looked away with a huff, “fine. Fair point.”

“That being said, are we going to have a serious conversation right now?”

“No,” Peter answered quickly, running a hand through his hair, “not right now. Soon okay? Soon. Right now,” he cleared his throat, “I was hoping for a distraction.”

“Oh?” Aro's eyes lit up, “were you?” It had been ages since their second session. With all that had happened, with how slow Peter seemed to move, they hadn't been physical.

“Maybe,” Peter, coy, sweet, began to pluck at Aro's shirt buttons, “you could help me with that?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Peter smirked, looking at him through his eyelashes, “want to fuck?”

Aro laughed, “so uncouth, but yes.”

“Uncouth, posh bastard.”

“When you say _fuck_ ,” he enjoyed watching Peter shudder, “anything specific? Anything you wish to try?”

Peter squirmed, “I picked up a few things. Let me get them.” He lept off the bed and went to his bedroom. Aro could hear drawers opening, rustling, and then Peter was back, looking more than embarrassed. “I took care of prepping myself for this already, won't go into it, but...needless to say my asshole has never been cleaner.”

Aro perked up as he watched a very large bottle of lube and a glove be dropped onto the bed.

“I see. When did you prep for _this_?”

“This morning when you went out.”

Aro took up the bottle, reading the label, “and you are sure this is what you want?”

Peter's throat bobbed, that telltale scent and heartbeat, but Aro waited for the words, “I'm sure. I mean...I want to do some things with you first, but...”

With a raised eyebrow, Aro jerked his head and Peter was on the bed with him, “why don't you show me, dearest, what these _things_ are?”

“Al...alright. Just remember,” he cringed even as the words came out of his mouth, “it's my first time doing any of this.”

“You will be spectacular Peter. You have failed to disappoint me yet.”


	6. Show Me Those Things pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely, they will get there and make love.

Boldly, Peter undid Aro shirt, tugged at his belt, and went for his button and fly, loving that the expensive clothes were still on the vampire's body, but now, utterly rumpled, exposing only what was truly needed. Nothing more than the top of the vampire's expensive underwear, chest and abdomen exposed.

“I believe you have a _thing_ for messing up my clothes dear, do try not to stain these trousers.”

Peter snorted, “Yes sir,” while sarcastic, playful, there was  _something_ there.

“Ah, another thing we'll have to explore,” for effect, he gently tugged Peter's hair earning a small hum of approval. “Do you like ropes?”

“Nah, can escape from most things,” he placed a kiss to the middle of Aro's chest, “magician.”

“I'll have to get creative when the time comes.”

“Not _too_ creative.” Peter kissed his chest again, loving the contrast of cool against warm.

Aro smiled and whispered, with as much affection he could muster, “coward.” And he outright laughed when Peter lifted his head and stuck his tongue out like a petulant child.

“Did you lift when you human?”

The sudden change in topic made Aro tilt his head.“Bed pardon?”

“You have abs. Didn't think you'd have them.” Peter's jaw hung open as he ran his palm over said abs.

“Why not?”

“You're a rich socialite nerd. Can't picture you as any other way, human or not.”

Aro giggled, “I ate well and did basic fitness.”

“Basic? You've got a six pack that I could grate cheese on!”

Aro allowed a moment to preen in Peter's obvious approval, “it is also a benefit of vampirism. The enhancement of natural features. Especially those that are beneficial like a strong body.”

“So all vampires have six packs?”

Aro hummed in his throat, “not necessarily. It enhances what is already there. If you had muscle definition, it increases it. You could always find out first hand?”

“Stop it,” Peter half-hearted chided him, not wanting to break the mood with an argument. Instead, he went back to exploration.

Aro's skin, so smooth, cool, lacking the suppleness of humanity as if he were touching thick glass. Unnaturally beautiful with it's pale sheen coupled with the simple fact that this was the first time Peter was seeing his (mostly) naked body all added a fresh spike of arousal and a sense of insecurity at his lack of experience. He never blew someone before. Gave women head sure, guys though? Never. Not that he would classify Aro as simply _a guy_ but that was neither here or there. Point was, he'd never had a cock in his mouth.

He'd cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, just touching.

With his long, graceful fingers, he traced along Aro's pant line as he ran his tongue over the vampire's nipple, then the other. Making a soft hum when gloved fingers ran over his skull and came to the back of his neck, giving a light squeeze.

Not wanting to waste time, he slipped his hand into the open fly of Aro's pants right over the smooth fabric of his fifty dollar boxers, feeling the hard line of his cock beneath.

“Oh my,” he heard Aro say, “I love when you take matters in hand.”

Peter laughed, lifting his eyes back to Aro's, “really?”

Aro gave another affectionate pet through his hair, “it made you laugh.”

Peter shook his head, big smile on his face as he kissed Aro's chest again and began rubbing his cock.

Easy movements. His other hand coming to run along side, chest, abs, where ever he could, mingled with randomly placed kisses that he slowly started to lead down.

With a shimmy, his chest was between Aro's knees, he removed his hands from inside the pants and went instead to yank both them and the underwear.

“You're being so bold my darling.” Aro adjusted himself on the pillows, propping himself up so he could watch better.

Peter didn't comment, just swallowed, staring at the decent sized cock.

“I can do this,” he murmured quietly to himself. He'd never done this, but he'd had it done to him, he knew the principal, not like he could hurt the guy even if his teeth got in the way (Aro would probably like it). He could do this. He wanted to do this.

Wetting his lips, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the spongy head, earning a delighted hum from the man above him. He kept his eyes down and with a breath, dove in.

“Oh! Dear, take your time, oh, don't choke,” Aro's voice high with surprise and excitement as Peter accidentally gagged, backed off, and then tried again.

Thick, lukewarm, stolen blood plumping the organ, warming it, making it pulse against his tongue in a light salty taste. Honestly, Aro almost tasted like nothing and the stretch of his mouth wasn't that bad.

He was a quick learner. Wrap his lips snug, suck up, push back down, rub his tongue along the vein on each upstroke. It wasn't a quick rhythm, but he did establish one.

Each hand came to rest on Aro's hips as he worked.

Aro let his eyes drift shut and focused on all the sensations that were Peter. The feel of his lightly calloused hands on his sides, the musky male scent of the human's arousal rising, mingling with his cologne, the little subconscious noises and gasps he made as he bobbed up and down, and of course, the pleasure.

While Peter wasn't being particularly inventive, it was efficient. Strong pressure, a determined rhythm, and the simple fact that Peter was giving this to him, all set his nerves on fire.

He wished he could feel Peter's hair against his fingers as he cradled the back of the mortal's head with his gloved hand.

“You're doing so well Peter, oh my dear, it feels so good.”

He heard the _mmm_ of joy from Peter. He always liked to be validated, needed the validation.

Peter had no idea how long he kept this up for. So intent on his task, enjoying it, the fact that he, a mere mortal, had this much sway over this powerful vampire that he had him flat on his back, willingly submitting himself to him, it made his heart and cock ache, that time didn't matter. Vaguely, he was aware that it was a while, that Aro had more stamina than he did, and it was fine. This was good.

“Mmm, Peter, love, stop a moment dearest.” He heard Aro say, felt leather against his jaw, coaxing him off and to look up.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. That was wonderful, but I want to wait for release for a while longer. I want to move on to the thing that you alluded to if you're willing?”

Peter's eyes widened as if he'd forgotten what he'd asked for.

“Oh, but, don't you want to come?”

“I like to savor. I'll find my release as I am giving you your's.”

Peter's throat bobbed, “...okay.”


	7. Show Me Those Things pt. 3

Peter was maneuvered onto his back and, unlike with Aro, he was promptly stripped until he was nude. Hot, hard, he wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck, pushed his hands into long, soft hair, and brought his mouth to Aro's, who deepened the kiss, dipped his tongue past Peter's pliant lips and back out again.

“You can take off your gloves,” Peter whispered, “if you want.”

Aro's smile could have lit up the room. He gave another quick kiss before rising on his knees between Peter's, he held out his hands to the mortal. “Would you?”

Peter reached out, paused, and then pinched the fingers of each glove and pulled.

Aro cupped Peter's face with both hands and pulled him into another kiss. Peter flinched at the cold of the vampire's skin but otherwise melted, closing his eyes. Aro then pushed Peter back down against the bed, took each hand and placed them above his head.

“Keep those there darling,” he squeezed Peter's wrists lightly and then slid down his body, letting his hands trail down Peter's arms, clavicle, then to pause at his chest. Loving the soft, warm flesh under his fingers, the heartbeat beneath the ribs, the hitch in Peter's breath. He brushed his thumbs over the man's nipples, then let them and his nose brush down along his sides and belly.

Darting his tongue out, he licked at Peter's belly button, then sat back up on his knees. Maintaining eye contact, he took up the rubber glove and lubrication.

“I hope you don't mind if I move things along?”

Peter's pupils dilated and he let out a soft sound, cock twitching, and he nodded. His fingers flexed before clenching handfuls of pillow.

“I'll be gentle, rest assured. All this will be tonight is a little play. Just a taste love.”

“We're not going to...” Peter faltered on the words, shy.

“Not tonight. I promise, soon. Tonight though, let's see how you handle the foreplay?” Aro pulled on the glove and rubbed Peter's thigh with his free hand. Peter was disappointed and there was something deeply moving about that.

“Well, you know what you're doing so I'm in your hands.” Peter smiled, giving a squeeze to the pillows to prevent himself from running his hands through Aro's hair.

Aro put a very generous amount of lubrication onto his gloved fingers and with a toss of his head, flipped his hair so it fell over one shoulder.

He had to stop himself from giggling when he decided to be a bit cheeky and use a smidgen of his vampire speed to have both of Peter's legs on his shoulders.

“Oi! Warning next time!” Peter groused with no real anger, especially as Aro pulled his cock into his cool, wet mouth.

Admittedly, there was little finesse as Aro sucked on Peter. Mostly he did this to serve as a distraction as he brought his lubricated finger to the man's untouched hole.

Just a tease, as he promised, letting his finger run up and down, dipping only a tiny bit in, before running up and down again. Repeating this pattern for some time, enjoying as Peter slowly relaxed. Not that he fought it, but despite his claims of being ready, he was still clearly nervous.

Strange, but nice. It tingled more than anything and the gel was slick, cold, making him wince, but it was nice. Between his dick being sucked and the very light touch of Aro's finger, Peter's body was alight. Warm, aroused, in a soft way. For once, his body was not immediately heading towards climax, content to hover in this easy-going arousal. He supposed practice really did make perfect, his stamina was at least getting better.

As Peter grew pliant, making soft sounds, occasionally squirming at a particular lap of tongue or hard suck, Aro began to work a single finger inside.

“Fuck, oh...wow.” Peter gasped and instinctively squirmed away from the sudden intrusion. When Aro paused he glanced down, meeting the vampire's eyes, “I'm okay. Go ahead.”

There was only a moment's hesitation before Aro closed his eyes and pushed his finger past the ring of muscle, groaning around Peter's cock as he heard, smelled, tasted, Peter's arousal spike.

“Ah, Aro...”

Up, down, in, out, Aro's rhythm on both Peter's cock and hole became a steady, gentle, one as Peter utterly surrendered, hips moving of their own accord until Aro used his free hand to clasp his hip, keep him in place.

“Aro, it's...oh...”

With a long suck up, Aro pulled off and set to watch Peter's face as he worked, “good?”

“Yes, yes it's good.” Peter's eyes were closed, a thin coat of sweat forming on his skin, breath shallow.

“I adore how sensitive you are darling. I'm barely doing anything and you're already incoherent.” Aro paused in his actions to remove Peter's legs from his shoulders and wrap them around his waist, lining up their cocks. “I hope you don't mind if we come together?”

Peter looked at him through squinted eyes, licked his lips and said, “Next time, more.”

“Promise.” Aro smiled. He removed the glove and tossed it to the floor and proceeded to rut against Peter, loving the press of their cocks together as he chased release, wanting them to come together.

“Close,” Peter squeezed the pillows harder, eyes clenched shut, gasping as Aro wrapped a hand around them, aiding in the rush to climax.

A few moments later, Peter came, followed shortly by Aro. Aro was used to lasting far longer than this but with all the trust Peter had placed in him, the beautiful sight of the man willing and aroused beneath him, gave him that little bit to come with no resistance.

Panting, Peter wrapped his arms around Aro and tugged him down, kissing, rolling them over onto their sides.

“Guess your clothes still got stained,” he grinned at Aro as his eyes flicked down to the mess between them earning a slight tsk from the vampire.

“Small price to pay for our pleasure,” he kissed Peter's forehead.

“Let's stay like this for a while?” Peter snuggled into him, face pressed into the crook of Aro's neck.

“Of course love. Whatever you'd like.”


	8. It Was a Kid

When he thought about the future, he would contemplate the options. One of which included respecting Peter's desire to remain human. It confronted him with questions he did not want answers to.

Would he be forced to hold his hand as Peter lay in a hospital bed gasping final, agonized, breaths? Would he even be there when Peter died or would he find his body cooling on the floor, clammy and blue?

What of Peter's remains? Would he bring Peter back to Volterra to be placed in a lavish tomb where he could visit the corpse and think of what could have been? Would he have Peter cremated and, in an old fashioned sense of macabre adoration, have the ashes put into jewelry? Perhaps a ring as he had so few of them.

To render Peter to become forgotten bones in the ground was unfathomable.

He wanted to talk about it. Soon. That was Peter's promise. So, he waited. Waited for Peter to approach him.

It happened one night when Peter came to Aro's room.

With no preamble, he let out a long, rough, sigh and flopped onto the bed next to Aro. Once adjusted he said, “Fuck. It's not just the killing thing.”

Aro folded his hands onto his lap and waited for Peter to continue when he paused.

He coughed, ran a hand through his hair and proceeded, “Christ knows I don't want that but it isn't the only reason. I don't want to live forever. I don't want to live and watch people I care about die. I don't want to watch everything around me change. I don't want to stick it out for billions of years to see the sun explode and kill us anyway. There's too much alright. Too fucking much.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed his forefinger and thumb into his eyes. “I can't do it.”

Aro hummed in thought before he placed a hand on the other's shoulder.

“If you are truly distressed by killing, you can kill animals.” Inwardly, he cringed at the very notion. Nothing was as satisfying to a vampire's thirst as human blood and did they have just as much right as sentient beings to exists? If not more so? Now was not the time to pursue those thoughts, “as to our longevity, believe me when I say nothing compares to being apart of history. Watching it being created, never knowing where it will lead. For all of the patterns of humanity, there is the glimmer of surprise lingering, propelling a desire to continue and see how it unfurls.”

Peter curled forward into himself and said with a tone that suggested he already knew the answer and wasn't happy about it, “what about Charlie, Amy, Mike, all their family, and friends?”

Aro, with as much empathy as he could muster said, “I'm sorry beloved. You can't have them all. It would be in your best interest to sever ties with them, move elsewhere, fake your death.”

Peter chewed on this before straightening his back. He took his hand away from his face and placed it over Aro's on his shoulder and looked into those blood-red eyes.

“I love you. Fuck knows why, but I do. But, to give up everything, everyone, else just to be with you? I'm sorry. I can't throw away the life I've built up around myself. Even for you.”

To see hurt in such an ancient, merciless, being's face was surreal. Confirmation of Peter's impact on the once heartless bastard.

Aro moved forward, placed a gentle kiss to his forehead and whispered, “I love you so much, Peter Vincent.”

They stayed like this for a while longer before eventually, the tension broke and they decided to move away.

The conversation had left them fatigued and despite desiring comfort, they needed time apart. Aro went out for the night, Peter stayed in. Left alone for once since Aro had moved in.

He tried sleeping. That had always been an excellent balm to his frayed nerves when drinking wasn't an option (which it certainly wasn't now that he had been sober for so long). After tossing and turning, the creaks and groans of the empty house standing out far more without Aro's presence, he gave up and decided to work out. Force himself to become tired.

In the basement was his modest setup. According to Mike (and Aro), it gave him no excuses if for whatever reason he couldn't go to the rec center. A modest set up with a few yoga mats pressed together, a used bike Mike had given him, a set of free weights that could be adjusted to different levels when they were snapped into their base.

In front of the bike was an old fashioned boxy tv and VHS player. Remnants from the previous tenants that Peter found too quaint and nostalgic to get rid of. He turned it on, enjoying the thick thunk of the electricity powering through the system, popped in a VHS, and got to work.

He focused on his breathing, his heartbeat, and tried to ignore the sweat pooling at his lower back and on his chest as he sped up his pedaling.

The scream queen and rubber bats on-screen helped keep him distracted from the pain with the glamorous camp of it all.

“Almost over, come on Peter, you got this.” The movie had at least twenty minutes left. When it was done, he'd be done.

Two hours, muscles sweetly sore and endorphins flooding his brain, Peter felt better and finally tired. A quick shower, toss on some pajamas and he'd be ready to pass out and pretend that he hadn't broken his boyfriend's heart.

Once in a ratty shirt, he looked at his bed, looked across to Aro's wide-open door and made a choice. Ripping his blanket off the bed and taking a few of his pillows for good measure, he went downstairs and made himself comfortable on the couch.

The intent was to be downstairs so he could spring awake when Aro came back. He'd probably use the front door if he wasn't showing off his freaky vampire shit and climbing through windows. That, and without Aro at least being somewhere in the house...he couldn't sleep. Not as easily. So he turned on the tv and let the documentaries and infomercials lull him into oblivion.

A stiff ache in his neck woke him. The house was dim and in the distance he heard the chirp of his alarm clock up in his bedroom. With a yawn and stretch, he sat up, popped his spine and went upstairs to turn off the clock and got changed. It was a work out day.

As he walked around the house, footsteps louder, more empty, he knew he was alone.

He didn't bother lingering. Taking up his keys and duffel bag, he headed out the door.

Outside the rec center, Mike was waiting. He always liked to wait by the door.

“Morning Peter,” he took him in, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter followed inside, “fine.”

“You look kind of, sick.”

“Rough night, not a lot of sleep.”

“Did you want to skip today?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

They put their stuff in the locker room and started their workout.

“Alright, today we're going to go light. We'll start with some yoga, then we'll do some cardio and then some floor exercises.” Mike said as he led Peter to the corner of the room where all the mats were.

“You don't have to go easy on me man,” Peter said, though he was grateful that Mike was so considerate.

Mike laughed, “who says it's for you, huh? Maybe it's because I want to be lazy!” He gave a nudge to Peter's shoulder and began guiding him through the yoga.

After fifteen minutes, warmed up and stretched, they hopped on the ellipticals.

“Mind if I turn on the tv?” Mike asked as he already was pressing the button the mounted box in the corner of the room.

“Go for it. Not much on right now though so we'll probably get stuck watching the news or a talk show.”

“I don't know, might have some cartoons. I think this thing gets PBS.”

“Pfft, gotta learn our colors and shapes.” Peter began moving, “set it for a half-hour. That work?”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, still fiddling with the tv and the four channels it offered. News, talk show, early morning cook show, cartoons. “I'm putting it on the news.”

Peter exaggerated a whine, “fine,” and Mike laughed as he took his spot next to him on his own machine.

“We're big kids now Peter, sometimes we should watch the news.”

“Why? It's depressing.”

“We have to stay informed. As best as we can,” Mike said, talking like he did to his children when they asked _why_.

Between idle chit chat (Mike's oldest son had been entered in an art contest, the youngest son was going into field hockey) and focusing the machine's program changing the speed and difficulty at random intervals, they half paid attention to the news.

That was until the music picked up.

“Breaking news...”

Peter, despite the heat of his body, felt the ice fill his heart.

“I have to go,” he slammed the button the machine and hopped off, wobbling for a second on the tired muscles.

“What's wrong?” Mike asked, turning off his own machine and stepping off his own machine, a look of concern on his face.

“I forgot something at home.”

“Okay.” While he didn't look convinced, Mike didn't pry. He was a good man like that. “Hey, Susan said you and Aro are invited to dinner Saturday. She hasn't met him yet and I've only seen him once.”

“Wha...yeah,” Peter dabbed his face and made for the door, “I'll ask him. He's not very social you know.”

“I know, call me later and let me know.”

Peter smiled, trembling and weak as it was, “no problem.” Numb and cold, he collected his stuff from the locker room, got into his car and sped home.

For ten minutes,. He sat in the car, heart pounding as he stared at his front door. If Aro had come home, he would be aware Peter was outside and was keeping his distance, allowing Peter to come to him. If he wasn't home...the report still in his mind.

With a defeated  _fuck_ he climbed out of the car, slamming the door. He marched up to the door, hand hovered over the knob before he sucked it up and pushed inside.

“You here?” He winced at the shrillness of his voice. He scanned the gray of the bottom floor, no one.

“I'm here.”

His eyes snapped up to the top of the stairs. Aro, chin up, fingertips pressed together in front of his chest, hair loose about his shoulders.

“Did you do it?” Peter asked, pleading rather than accusation.

“Do what?”

“They found the body of a little boy in the woods this morning. Drained of blood.”

Aro descended the stairs. One. At. A. Time.

“You believe,” his voice clipped, “I did this?”

Standing his ground, “Did you?”

When Aro got to the bottom of the stairs, he eyed Peter before sweeping past him and going tot he couch. He took his seat, looked over his shoulder and waited.

Slowly, Peter went to join him and took his spot next to the vampire.

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and asked in little over a whisper, “where were you last night?”

Aro crossed his legs, resting his hands on his thigh, “hunting.”

They never talked about Aro's diet. Peter knew, of course, Aro hunted. In the hours he slept, Aro crept out. An open secret. It made him shudder to hear it out loud.

“Where?”

Aro tossed his hair over his shoulder, irritated. Only with Peter did he owe explanations. He never had to explain himself so much.

“Peter, do you think I have such little respect for you that I would not only hunt near home but a child as well? Then leave the body to be so easily found like an irresponsible newborn?” For effect, Aro blinked, “I have been very restrained when it comes to you. Careful to mind my words, my strength, my powers. I do this out of respect and love. Both of which I do not give lightly. As I go at your pace, all I have wanted is the trust that, by this juncture, I believe I deserve.” He put the delicate touch of bitterness in his tone. The suggestion of his hurt. Funny how hard it was to conceal it completely where Peter was concerned.

“I did not kill this boy.”

The predator, the royal, in him was satisfied to see Peter shrink back, chagrined. He loved the man, did his best to see Peter as a lover, an equal, however his brief time with Peter could not fully quash the habits and mindset of thousands of years. Peter was young and human. Brash and suspicious. Traits he enjoyed certainly but his constant flip-flopping where Aro was concerned was irksome.

“I may not have hunted in a long time, but I do know how to clean up after my messes.”

Peter dropped his head, unable to meet Aro's eyes. He said nothing, made no move, just thought.

Eventually, a thought was given voice, “if not you, then...that means that there's another vampire. Somewhere close.”

He lept up onto his feet. “Oh my god.”

“Peter?”

“It's my fault. Here I've been sitting on my ass this whole time and one of them snuck in. Right under my fucking nose.” As was his habit, he ran his hand through his hair, Aro watched, bemused.

“What is your fault?”

“I haven't hunted in months. Months. Because of that, a little boy died. If I were out there, hunting like I should have been doing, I could have stopped this. Instead, I'm fucking here. What the fuck have I been doing!” In a flash, he was heading up the stairs, taking two or three at a time with his long, strong, legs.

Aro was beside him in Peter's room as the human tore through the closet for his _tool_ bag.

“Peter, wait,”

“No!” Without looking at Aro, Peter tossed the bag on the bed and then began sifting through the bag, laying out the tools, inspecting them.

“You have no idea whether this truly was a vampire. Even if it were, you have no clue as to where the vampire is. They could easily have moved onto a new location by this point. What if they were just passing through.”

“Passing through, you make it sound like a tourist coming to stare at the leaves in the fall.”

“Never the less, you are acting recklessly. So caught up in your guilt and anger that you are willing to through caution to the wind as well as common sense.” He caught Peter's wrist, refusing to yield to Peter's indignation and tugs.

“Let me go!”

“Calm down first.”

“Fuck's sake Aro. It was a kid! A fucking kid! That might not mean fuck all to you, but that kid's dead because the only vampire hunter in the area was too busy playing house, and fucking, to get out there and do his job!” Peter spat, tugging all the more hard at the grip around his wrist. “Let me go!”

Without batting an eye, Aro used his supernatural speed to move faster than Peter could process, first by clearing the bed by shoving all of the tools off of it, then gently, but swiftly, moving Peter to the bed.

The human had just enough time to let out a yelp before falling back into the pillows, Aro instantly by his side, wrapping his body around his. Hardly registering the struggles of the human.

“Peter, you are not at fault for another's actions. Even if you were still hunting there would be no guarantee that you would have found the particular vampire that had killed the child.”

“There still would have been a chance!” Peter couldn't kick, couldn't punch, being completely wrapped up by the vampire.

“A slim one!” Aro argued back, trying not to get frustrated as Peter whipped his head back trying to hit him in the face. Not that it would hurt of course, but there was the principal of the thing.

“Let me go!” Peter repeated his demand.

“Calm down first!”

Peter growled, flailed as he much as he was able to do, and eventually gave up when he ran out of breath and his muscles burned.

“Fucking bastard. You wouldn't like it I just held you down like this if I were able.”

“You're right, I wouldn't. I wish I could have used my words only on you Peter, but with your tendency to stake first and ask questions never I can't run the risk of letting you go until you're calmer and we can think.”

“We?” The surprise at that had Peter instantly stop struggling. Aro allowed Peter to turn onto his side so he could face him.

Aro allowed himself a small smile and pressed a gentle kiss to Peter's forehead, “of course, we.”

Peter didn't know how to process this, “but you're not supposed to be involved in the hunting.”

“I wasn't supposed to sleep with a hunter either.”

That earned a snort from the human he kissed Aro, a sweet peck against his lips.

“Almost forgot why I got so upset. Did you just say that to get me to calm down?”

“Yes and no. I did want you to calm down but I meant it. We are together Peter. I can't let you risk your life. If you are truly intent on going back into hunting, I shall assist you this time around.”

“What about the risk of discovery?”

“Hm,” Aro made a show of pondering, “then I suppose none shall live to tell the tale yes?”

Peter tugged Aro closer to him, “sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?”

–

“I'm Detective Helsing and I'd like to ask you a few questions,” he rehearsed in the mirror as he straightened his tie.

He saw Aro's reflection as the man entered the room.

“My, this is the first time I've seen you in a suit,” his hands came out to smooth Peter's lapels. “A rather bland suit but a nice change for you none the less.”

Peter turned around, “it's supposed to be bland. I'm an FBI agent.”

Aro surveyed the human and toyed with his tie, “you would look wonderful in something more vibrant. An embroidered waistcoat would be fetching.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Aro's neck.

“And you'd look good in a t-shirt and jeans.” He surged forward to press a kiss to Aro's nose.

“Perhaps, after this hunt, we can reward each other with a bit of dress-up.”

“Dress down in your case.”

They shared a kiss before Aro pulled away to look at them in the mirror.

“I suppose it's time to do my make up?”

“Guess so,” Peter agreed and they made their way to the vanity.

“Dear, what name did you pick for your detective character?”

Peter pulled Aro's hair into a ponytail, “Detective Helsing.” He smirked when Aro laughed.

“Bit on the nose don't you think?”

Peter shrugged and picked up a container of foundation, “what did you pick?”

Without hesitation, Aro said, “Detective Vincent.”

There was a potent pause as Peter allowed himself to bask in Aro's open affection.

“Babe, as flattering as that is, the point is to have names that are so removed from ourselves and not give ourselves away.” He applied the first layer of power. “If I'm right next to you and you're using Vincent, someone might piece it together who I am. Still relatively famous you know.”

“Hm,” Aro frowned and said, “I see. What name would you suggest then?”

Peter bit his lip as he continued to work, “how about Sheen?”

“Sheen?”

“Yeah, like that actor guy. You guys kind of look alike and he was in that vampire movie.”

“He played a werewolf.”

“A sexy werewolf,” Peter laughed at the playful pinch Aro gave to his arm.

“Very well. Detective Sheen it is. Though I think I'd make an excellent Vincent.”

Peter smiled to himself as he rushed to finish Aro's make up. It never took long, he'd had enough supplies and skill to get this done in ten minutes. And soon, Detective Sheen emerged.

“Alright, let's double-check supplies and we'll get going.”


	9. Hello Mr. Vincent

The inn they were staying at made Peter say, once they were in their room, “bet you anything this place is haunted.” He tossed his bag next tot he bed.

Aro raised his eyebrow, “why do you say that?”

Peter laughed and said, “we're in New England, in a two-hundred-year-old house that has a porcelain doll room, next to a graveyard. It's haunted.”

Aro allowed himself an indulgent smile, “I'm afraid even with my many centuries of experience, I have yet to deal with ghosts.”

“Never?” Peter sounded shocked, “thought they would flock to a creepy bastard like you.”

“Flattering dear.” Aro resisted rolling his eyes, enjoying Peter's playful teasing.

“Don't mention it.” Peter went to the desk and picked up a laminated sheet of paper, “huh, they're serving lunch downstairs. How about we grab a quick bite and then we'll go to the police station. See if we can get in there, look at the files. Then we'll go question the parents.”

“Whatever you think would work. You are the expert in vampire hunting, I am merely here for support.”

“I think I like having you do what I say,” Peter went to move past Aro to the door, letting his fingers brush along the vampire's chest (pretending that he didn't notice) and opened the door with a cheeky over the shoulder, “you coming?”

\---

The woman tugged her cardigan tighter over her shoulders and chest. Red rimmed eyes stared at Peter and Aro, pleading.

“How many times do we have to go over this?” She asked, letting herself be folded into her husband's arms.

He glared at them, “haven't we been through enough already? Hasn't been long and yet every five seconds we're dealing with reporters, random people, you.”

With all his genuine empathy, Peter leaned forward, “I am sorry. We don't want to cause you any more pain but it's important. With more agents on the case and more interviews, we stand more chance to uncover new details, anything that can help. We only want to help.”

The pair looked at each other before the woman sighed,

“Bradly left the house at noon...

“What are we looking for?” Aro asked as he scrunched his nose when muck seeped through his decidedly not waterproof leather shoes.

“Anything that doesn't belong in the woods,” Peter answered as he sifted through rotten leaves where the body had been found.

Aro came to stand next to him, “what could we hope to find that the police did not.”

“Don't know,” Peter continued looking through the mess. “I'm hoping,” he sighed and stood up, “with your vampire eyes that maybe you'll see something.” Peter looked around and then up at the sky. It would be sunset soon. Maybe a half-hour at most.

They'd interviewed Bradly Hartnell's parents, then a few of Bradly's friends and neighbors. By the time they reached the woods, the day had already slipped by.

He forgot how much it could hurt talking to remaining loved ones.

As far as Aro was concerned, there was a fun novelty to this dress up. A game he was playing with Peter. Watching his lover, frustrated, pained, thrilled, all battling for a forthright spot in his mind, being worn easily on his face, warmed him. To see Peter this lively was wonderful. Admittedly, he was still a vampire and struggled to convey the proper empathy in his expression (what was a dead child to him?) but for Peter, he did his best to be sympathetic and let Peter do the majority of the talking.

Now, here in the woods, staring at the ground while he shoes were ruined, the novelty was wearing a little thin. Talking to grieving mortals and digging through dirt did not qualify as fun.

“I'm not finding anything,” Peter groused, “how about you babe?”

That's when Aro heard it. He went very still.

Peter, noticing, went equally still, straining his ears and eyes for anything in the darkening tree line, “what is it?”

Aro didn't answer. There was a moment and then Peter found himself being carried at lung crushing speed to the car.

Roughly, he was shoved into the driver's seat, buckled, and the key already turned.

“Go home. Lock the doors and windows, arm yourself. I will meet you there.” With that, Aro left, disappearing in a blink back into the trees.

Knowing better than to argue, Peter did as asked and sped through the town to the next, not stopping until he was pulled into his driveway.

The entire drive home, all Peter had was his heartbeat and increasingly panicked thoughts. What was in the woods that made Aro, of all people, panic like that. Was it the vampire they were hunting? If it was just one why shove Peter away? What if it was more than one? What if it was something else?

“Damn it! Fuck!” Peter's hand shook as he shoved the key into the lock and flung himself in the house with a slam. He then threw the bolt, turned the knob lock, and went to go upstairs to get the reinforcement tools that he used back in the day to strengthen hotel doors and windows.

Just as he put his foot onto the bottom step he heard,

“Hello, Mr. Vincent.”

\---

When Peter awoke, he found he couldn’t open or close his mouth. His lips were stretched over something smooth and rubbery. He tried to raise his hands, only to find them restrained.

As his eyes cleared, he saw he was in some sort of elegant living room with expensive carpets and fireplace and the chair he was tied to was, surprisingly, nice. A squishy armchair of all things.

“Good evening Mr. Vincent,” a thick Russian accent met his ear.

His eyes snapped up to find a man in black, pale skin, red eyes. It took all of his professionalism to keep calm.

“I apologize for your confinement but given your profession and who your lover is, it is necessary.” The man looked down at his phone and then back to Peter. “Rest assured Mr. Vincent, our vendetta is not against you. We have no intention of any undue suffering on your part.”

 _Just using me as bait and probably going to kill me_ Peter thought as he glared at his captor.

“I know what you are thinking,” the man said, clearly amused, “you won’t be harmed provided you behave. And you won’t be killed provided your lover behaves.” The man pointed directly at Peter, “as soon as Aro Volturi surrenders himself, you will be allowed to leave. I am a man of my word.”


	10. Invitation Accepted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with this story so far. I really hope you continue to find it engaging and such. Your support has been just really meaningful to me and thank you. Thank you for the kudos, thank you for the comments, just thank you, guys.

“Aro Volturi, I am glad to see you received our invitation.” The man in black gestured to where Peter sat. “As you can see, Mr. Vincent is unharmed.” He rose to his feet and stood between Aro and Peter, blocking their view of each other. In the brief second he could see Peter's eyes, he was proud to see not an ounce of fear, just rage.

“What is it that you want?” Aro laced his fingers and rested them against his stomach.

“Your surrender.” The man, with his thick Russian accent, blond hair, seemed familiar but Aro honestly couldn't place him.

His eyes scanned the room. Four of them. Two behind him who had shown him inside once he arrived, one blocking the archway into the room to the right, and the ring leader in front of him. Aro calculated his next move. He was strong but outnumbered. This would be tricky.

“In exchange?”

The man smiled, “not only will Mr. Vincent be released, but he shall also benefit from our protection in your _absence_. We will do our best to ensure that he lives a nice, long, life.”

Aro's eyes narrowed, “why would you be so merciful?”

The man shrugged, “several reasons. Some complex, some not so much.” He glanced back at Peter briefly, “I also find Mr. Vincent endearing. A sort of kindred spirit. Been watching researching, for a while. I understand his quest for vengeance. I respect loyalty, devotion, and love. He is a beautiful tragedy. If we are able to come to an arrangement I would be pleased to let him live.”

Peter, meanwhile, saw his chance. Everyone's focus was on Aro. Plying his skills, he wriggled his wrists free and as fast and quietly as he could, he snagged the iron poker from the rack next to the fireplace and rushed to drive the tip between his captor's shoulder blades.

Pain bloomed through his wrist, arm, and shoulder and the poker fell to the floor with a loud clang.

“Now, Mr. Vincent, is that any way to behave when you've been shown such hospitality?  
With a flourish, he moved Peter so that he was held flush against his chest. A hand yanking his head back with a hand tangled into his hair.

“My,” Peter flinched as he felt the man's cold lips brushed against his neck, “he is very pretty. Perhaps,” he wrapped his other arm around Peter's waist, “I will turn him.”

A flair of panic bloomed in Peter's heart and he tugged at the arm around his waist, tried to move his head. Futile.

“Would you like to watch Aro?” Peter could see the furry in Aro's eyes as the man placed a kiss to his skin, “you know how intimate this act can be.”

Everything became a blur, the world swirling around Peter as he was thrown when Aro stepped forward.

He soared through the air before his back hit the wall and something sharp (glass, judging by the shattering) stabbed him in the lower back. He landed on the floor, his skull thunking against the polished wood.

“Fucking hell,” he tried to stand and his leg gave out and he yelped. “Christ,” everything hurt and he glanced down to see blood seeping through the leg of his cheap gray suit. Though, his back was suspiciously wet.

From his spot on the floor, he couldn't see much with the furniture in the way. That and any glimpse of action was just that, a glimpse. Snippets of Aro swinging his fist. One of the other vampires jumping on his back, then their growls and shouts sounding from another room, then back to the main one as the fight ran throughout the bottom floor of the house. When they were in the main room though it looked like the furniture was being torn apart by poltergeists. 

He jumped when the fire flared up. He could have sworn he saw a head fly into it. Thankfully not one with long hair.

Right next to him, a potted plant burst, dirt and shared of pottery smacking Peter right in the face, though thankfully avoid his eyes. The vampire against the wall seemed stunned, blinking at Peter stupidly, before being hauled to his feet by Aro (suit jacket in tatters around him, hair had fallen out of the clip) and disappearing in a flash, only to appear again in the center of the room, head removed from his body.

Peter could see a strand of spine dangling from the neck before it too was tossed into the fire.

Aro glanced around the room, looking for the remaining two. He met Peter's eyes,

“Can you walk?” He clearly saw Peter's leg, all the more his features morphed into unbridled anger. His lips curled over his teeth, his brows drawn together, his fingers clenching into claws at seeing Peter hurt.

“No, it hurts too much. I think my leg is broken.”

Aro looked around the room once more before suddenly appearing next to Peter, drawing him against his chest, preparing to pick him up.

“You think you're getting out of this alive?” The man was behind Aro and pulling him backward by his hair. Dragging him along the floor on his back.

Again, there was more fighting, in blurs, with loud sounds, smashed furniture, the sounds moving around the house. All the while, Peter felt useless. He tried twice more to stand, to find a weapon, to try and help, and twice he fell back down. Feeling weaker.

He lifted his head and in the corner of his eye, he saw one of the remaining vampires, squatted next to him, glaring. 

“If we can't kill him,” he said, grabbing Peter's throat, “then I'm going to kill his whore.”

Peter gasped and his hands scrambled to grab at that arm, instinctual, fearful.

The man forced Peter to his feet, hand still around his throat, not enough to kill but damn if it didn't make it hard to breathe.

“I think you'll appreciate this, Mr. Vincent,” the man said as he lifted up a long knife. Beautiful. Shinning with a decorative blade, flashing it before Peter's eyes. “I'm sure you have the best collection for your hunting,” he said, just before he ran the blade along Peter's stomach.

“Fuck!” Peter managed as the pain surged. 

“Don't worry, it's deep, not deep enough to gut you, deep enough to make you bleed, slowly. He's not in here, gotta keep you alive long enough that he'll see the life drain from you face.” He stilled, listening to a distant smash, “I think they'll be back in a minute.”

That's when the ring leader and Aro came through the wall, with Aro rolling up onto his feet and, acting quickly, getting near to the fireplace to grab the fallen poker and wield it with enough force that he managed to sever the man's head.

Covered in dust, clothes in shreds, hair tangled about his face, Aro looked down at the headless corpse for a moment before his nostrils flared and he looked up in shock. 

“Peter!”

“You've taken everything away from us, now I've taken something important to you!” The man laughed and didn't have time to defend himself as Aro twisted his head from his body.


	11. No

It was just like the movies. The hero covered in blood, choking out final words while their lover wept over them. Peter might have laughed at the dramatics if he weren't dying.

Through pain and rapidly fading sight, Peter managed to meet Aro's eyes.

“Hey,” he tried to smile but his face was growing numb, “it's okay. Wen...went down swing...ing.”

Aro cradled him against his chest. He looked away from Peter, biting his lip, eyes clenched closed. Then, he turned back to Peter.

“Peter,” never had Aro Volturi sounded so weak, so desperate, “you can't die.”

With a gurgle, Peter laughed, “human. It's what we do.” He was tired, cold, the pain growing distant now. He let his eyes close. It was okay. Not much longer. Just concentrate on Aro and it would be like falling asleep after an all-night movie marathon.

He was vaguely aware of Aro shifting, could feel the vampire nuzzling him and he sighed, content that he wasn't alone in his final moments.

That was until he felt something wet, sharp, against his neck.

With what little strength he had left, he opened his eyes and said, “please don't,” barely above a whisper.

“Hush love,” Aro's lips brushed against him with a kiss before he sank in his teeth.

Trapped in a prison of pain, his injuries still open, the burn of Aro's bite, the pressure of venom flowing through his heart, he couldn't even scream.

Aro withdrew, blood smeared on his white chin, holding Peter against his chest while he rocked them gently.

“It will be alright,” he brushed Peter's tears away with his thumb, “shh, Peter, shh. You'll see. Everything will be alright.”

As his heart began to slow, consciousness slipping away, Peter gasped out,

“No.”

It was the last thing Peter would say as a human.


	12. How Could You?

Peter's eyes open.

Maroon. Above and around him. Thick, velvet curtains. This was most certainly not his bed. This wasn't Aro's bed. It was definitely not the bed back at the inn.

He sat up.

The aches and pops in his joints that had long been accepted and ignored were gone. The constant exhaustion that bagged under his eyes, gone. The persistent pulsing headaches in his temples, gone.

He went to raise his hands, then, fearing what he would see if he looked at them, dropped them back to the bed and rolled his eyes up to the fabric above him.

His eyes closed, his teeth were extraordinarily sharp as they worried his bottom lip.

The burning in his throat prompted him to shove the curtains aside, find out where he and Aro were.

As he stepped out of the confines of the bed, he saw Aro sitting, cross-legged, in a large antique armchair next to it.

“How are you feeling?” It took a trained ear to pick up on the note of anxiety creeping into Aro's cultured voice. Someone who knew him would notice. Peter noticed. He also noticed the absolute clarity in which he heard it. As he looked at Aro, he found that, for lack of a better description, the vampire was in high definition.

The light diamond sparkle of his skin reflected in the dim yellow table lamp glow, the blue veins beneath alabaster skin, the strands of hair over his shoulder standing out individually.

Peter stared at him a moment longer before saying,

“What are you wearing?”

Aro waved a dismissive hand at the purple silk shirt and dark blue jeans with a grimace, “it was the only thing in my size.”

Peter onced him over again and said, “looks good,” before he slid out of bed and made to move to a standing wardrobe in the corner where, through the gap between the doors, he saw the glint of a mirror.

“Peter,” the grip on his bicep firm as Aro came to stand beside him, “before you do anything, please try to see things from my perspective,” he stopped short when Peter, successfully, shoved his hand off.

Peter looked at the place Aro's hand had been, jaw dropped, eyes wide, and then he ripped the door off the hinges. It landed on the floor, mirror side down.

Stunned, he picked it up and hesitated before he turned it around to see his reflection.

Silence. Utter silence as Peter took in his red eyes, pale skin, the perfection of his overly white teeth.

He stared, his lips morphing into a snarl, brow creasing, hands clenching the wood until it squeaked.

With no warning, he flung the door away causing the mirror to smash and coat the floor in dangerous glitter.

The anger, the fear, coiled inside of him, strangling his heart. He dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around himself, hung his head.

He wanted to shove Aro away and pull him closer when he too went to his knees and pulled him into a hug.

Peter glared at the floor, “how could you?”

“How could I not?” Aro answered, for really, what else could he say?

Peter closed his eyes, then opened them slowly,

“Why can't I cry?”

“We have no use for tears. Our venom naturally maintains and heals the body including keeping our eyes moist.” Aro took in Peter's profile, the stiffening of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders. He gave him a squeeze and coaxed him to stand up, “you must be thirsty.”

Peter shoved him away, head still hung.

Yelling, ranting, throwing things, he expected. This? Calm, quiet, rage condensed into sharp eyes? All made Aro uneasy as he waited for Peter to say something.

Eventually, Peter lifted his head and fixed Aro with an unwavering glare, “I didn't want this,” he held up a hand when Aro tried to approach him, “I can't...I can't be this.”

Aro held out his own hands, open-palmed, “please Peter, I can help you through this. I promise you that it is not as terrible as you think.”

Peter's eyes flicked to Aro's hand, then back to his face. Pain. No more anger, just pain etched into his face.

“I trusted you and look what it's gotten me.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I love you. I do, but...fuck this.”

Using the raw, untempered strength of a newborn, Peter disappeared from sight.

“Peter!”


	13. No way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief but suitable. The next chapters will be longer.

It was late or really early. His phone had been taken when he'd been taken hostage and now was lost in the carnage of the mansion. All he knew, it was dark, damp, and he was alone.

Through bare, bony, branches, he could see the moon low in the sky and vaguely recalled something Aro had read to him,

_Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon who is already sick and pale with grief..._

There was more to it but he couldn't remember.

The night's silence broken by the screech of owls and snapped him back to the surroundings of the forest and the fact he was lost.

“Ah, fuck,” he fell on his ass, shoved both hands into his hair, cradling his head, tried to ignore the thirst. It didn't just burn. It hurt. A short, sharp, series of jabs that gnawed at his insides. If he were human anymore it would be like if he hadn't eaten in weeks times ten.

“Fuck,” he said again. He looked down at his legs. Or rather, where his legs should have been. Come to think about it...he raised his hands in front of his face...and saw nothing.

Nothing. He could see the moonlight, the shadows as clear as if he were looking through glass.

“Ah!” He shot to his feet and looked back down at his hands. They were there again. “What the...” 

It was his mind playing tricks on him. There was no way he was invisible. He didn't even know how to control any of his abilities yet so how could he have any powers right off the bat?

With a growl, using the sheer amount of will power he'd been using to avoid $100 shots of fine booze, he proceeded to try and find his barrings. He ran completely straight from the mansion. Chances are, Aro wasn't there anymore. Probably would go looking at him at home. If he turned back, he could pluck a phone off of one of the dead guys, and then use the GPS to find his way to Charlie's.

He walked back the way he'd come. 


	14. Charlie Calling

Thankfully, vampire flesh was not as rancid as human flesh when burned.

One by one, Aro tore apart the bodies and placed the pieces into the fire. It was tedious work that made him wish for the furnaces and servants of Volterra. Still, with Supernatural speed and vast amounts of lighter fluid, he was getting through the disposal fairly quickly.

As to the destroyed furniture, the bits of supernatural blood spattered about, he decided to leave it as a tantalizing mystery to the detectives that would eventually come to investigate when the elderly couple that had previously owned the estate had failed to make any contact with anyone in weeks. Those who had lured him here had already disabled the security, the cameras and such. He glimpsed in their minds when he was destroying them.

He had toyed with the idea of destroying the entire house but felt that it would be far too conspicuous.

Truth be told, his mind wasn't truly focused on his tasks of vampire secrecy.

Peter had disappeared. A very angry newborn Peter had disappeared. As he set about his work, his mind replayed over and over the betrayal in his lover's eyes and his sudden departure.

At first, he assumed that Peter had utilized his rage and newfound strength to vanish, but now...he wasn't so sure.

He glanced at the window, the sky brightening. Twelve hours gone in the pursuit of Peter and his captors, the battle that ended their chance at revenge, and then Peter's transformation. All in a blink of an eye.

He was grateful, as the sunlight crept further into the sky, that his brand of vampires had nothing to be worried about when it came to sunlight.

What he was worried about was Peter's thirst.

He had hoped after the man's initial anger that he would come back and let Aro guide him, help him. While he felt it was beneath their kind to hunt animals in the woods, that's what he had intended to do with his darling. Ease him into the way of things. Because, for all his selfishness in making Peter, he knew Peter. Knew that he would never want to start with humans. Probably would feel he could _never_ kill a human being. As such, as Aro promised him, he wouldn't have forced that.

Now, Peter was alone in the woods, angry, charged, strong, and thirsty and he had not been able to find him.

He had tried. He had run outside, tried to spot him in his flight, but...

So he waited. 

The bodies in the fire were little more than scraps of fabric, bits of bone, as he stoked the fire once last time and decided to go and fetch a garbage bag to scoop it into. No sense in making the mystery solvable to any mortal detective by leaving behind charred remains. Oh, how he wished for the furnaces.

As he rose up, music began to play. Some rock number that he hadn't bothered to remember but Peter was quite fond of.

He closed his eyes and listened, the sound was coming from the next room. Using his speed he was in the kitchen and holding Peter's phone. A picture of Aro with his hair pulled back, down on his haunches, changing a tire greeted him when he touched the screen and saw the message.

_Charlie Calling_


	15. I Trust Him

“I trust him,” Charlie said as he finally stopped pacing. Amy patted the spot next to her and Charlie allowed himself the comfort of being near her.

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, he put his hand over her's.

“Why didn't he tell us?” Charlie raised his face and Amy could see the tears brimming in his eyes. “If he'd told us, maybe we could have,”

“Could have what?” Amy interrupted with a faint smirk. “Peter Vincent is one of the craziest and stubborn people we know. You think he would have listened to us? _Especially_ if it was good for him?”

Charlie smiled at that, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and he eyed the stake on the coffee table.

They wouldn't need it.  



	16. Get to Charlie's

His skin sparkled in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. Every now and again he would notice it when he moved his hand to run through his hair or to push the brush aside as he walked eventually shoving his hands into his suit jacket.

His original intent to head back to the mansion last night, grab a cellphone (maybe find his own) and use the GPS to find Charlie's, was altered when he could see the top of the roof on the edge of the forest when he'd walked back through the trees and lost his nerve. He did not want to see Aro.

Instead, mindful to stay out of sight of the house and the large windows, he walked back into the woods, close enough so that he could follow the curve of the driveway down to the street.

It didn't take him long. Not because he wasn't in the middle of fucking nowhere but because he hadn't learned to control his super-speed and it took five minutes.

The road was canopied by trees, their branches forming a natural tunnel and so he moved from the tree line and onto the street. Even if sunlight reached him, there was enough shade that it wouldn't make it obvious. He hoped. Even if it were, he could say it was a ton make up with glitter in it if anyone stopped. As Aro pointed out a long time ago, humans did have a tendency to ignore the obvious and he was a magician; he could make people see what they wanted to see.

Despite the decent clip he was doing (paying attention to whether the guard rail blurred or not to help him keep to what would be a fast walk if spotted) his muscles didn't ache and despite knowing it was cold out as the wind rattled the branches above, he didn't feel it. This was hell. All he could do was compartmentalize his focus in his mind, make it the driving force _get to Charlie's, get to Charlies,_ and ignore the...discomfort. Ignore how every sound stood out in a blaring assault against his ears. Ignore how all around him smelled of moisture, leaves, flowers, blood. Hell.

It wasn't just the thirst that felt like it had built up in the desert. It wasn't just the hunger that rumbled soundlessly in his guts like a beast, unfed and baited. The pain. It was the pain that constricted his skin, tightened his veins.

It almost made him feel sorry for Aro if this is what it meant to be hungry with how he burned and ached inside.

He knew what he needed. What he yearned for. He knew he could go into the woods, pluck himself a nice plump rabbit from the ground or find a deer. He didn't want to. And he especially didn't want to do it alone. But the one person that could have been there for him he didn't want anywhere near him right now.

Besides, he told himself as he snuggled deeper into his flimsy jacket despite the cold's useless battle against him, he was going to end it anyway. There was no point in feeding if he wasn't going to stay alive. Why keep himself alive now?

All he needed to do, he told himself for the thousandth time, was get into the nearest town, find out where he was, and take it from there. They nabbed him from his home and all of this happened in one night. Probably wasn't even that far from where he lived. There were plenty of woods near him after all and in the surrounding towns.

Get to Charlie's. That's all he had to do and this damned pain would end. Charlie would help him. Charlie was a good friend.

But fuck was he hungry.


	17. Get a Grip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is short. It's partially intentional. I honestly am enjoying the pacing/tension. I hope that you are too.

“Need a ride son?”

Peter was back where he started. In the woods, lost, alone. He sat on the ground, rocked himself back and forth, covering his ears, closing his eyes.

One nice old man in a busted pick-up truck sent Peter pole vaulting over the guardrail, barely able to restrain himself from tearing his throat open and leaving him drained in the driver's seat.

“Fuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!” His shout sent birds into the air and rodents scurrying through leaves. He heard them, all around. Their nervous little heartbeats. Smelled their animal musk, their blood.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to curl up in his smooth black sheets and go to sleep. He wanted to wake up to Aro making breakfast and all of this having been a nightmare.

He opened his eyes and looked skyward. Clouds were coming in. 

He had to get a grip. If the old man sent him running, how the fuck was he supposed to deal with being in a town surrounded by people?

He needed directions. The tops of houses and businesses were in the distance from the road he'd been on. He saw them through the trees. A few miles away at least. If he were human still, that would have taken a few hours. But now? Now he was back in the trees. 

No tears fell as he continued to rock, though he made small guttural sounds, little whines and such. It wasn't nearly as cathartic as a good cry, did nothing for the agony increasing in his body, but it was something.

Get to Charlie's. Charlie would help. He would never hurt Charlie. Never. And Charlie would help him end this. Probably hold his hand as Amy drove a stake into his heart. It was comforting honestly to think about it. Not being alone as he died. But fuck. He couldn't even get to Charlie's if he couldn't get directions, maybe a car. Something.

He stood up, running a hand through his hair with a growl and looked around. Even with his supernatural eyes, he didn't see the animals that he knew were there. Hidden. But not for long. 

“No choice. I...I have to. Nothing wrong with it. I eat...ate...meat. As long as I do it quickly right?” He murmured to himself. Fuck he wished he didn't have to do this.

Following his nose and ears, he waited. He didn't really know what to do but he'd watched enough movies to have the gist. Besides, his body, now on the prowl, seemed to have instinct all on its own, leading him to his goal.

There was no big game in these particular woods. Not right now apparently but underneath the dirt.

Light-footed, he stepped along the ground until he was in position. With a deep breath he did not technically need, he raised his fist, held it aloft for a moment, and brought it down, moving through the solid rock and stiff dirt like it was nothing.


	18. A Good Friend

“Peter!” Since the phone call with the mysterious Aro, Charlie had lived in his living room, pounding down coffee, trying to not only stay alert but to squash the anxiety that came with waiting.

Two days had passed. Charlie slept only when Amy took up his post by the front window, curling up on the couch.

A number of scenarios plagued his thoughts and tortured his dreams. He knew what to expect, it was another thing to _see_ it. The second a knock was heard, Charlie flung off the small Christmas fleece blanket and rushed to the door.

Peter stood on the stoop in the remnants of a suit. The jacket and white button-up were dusty, with odd brambles and pine needles clinging to the fabric, and what looked like dried blood clung to Peter's hands and neck. Smeared on the sleeve of his jacket as if he'd wiped his mouth on it. The pants had a tear in one of the legs and a massive stain around it.

“Nice place,” Peter red eyes took in the room as he crossed the threshold, “wished I visited earlier.” His voice low, weary, as he made it to an armchair and flopped down, closing his eyes.

Charlie closed the door and slowly made his way to the couch, Amy meeting him there.

“Peter?” He tried again.

“Did you know rabbits scream?” Peter didn't open his eyes.

“Oh?” Charlie tried to keep things light, a touch familiar and humor, “falling asleep to nature documentaries still?” When they went hunting, Peter often fell asleep to documentaries. At first, it annoyed the hell out of Charlie, but now, every once and a while, he too would put on the tv as he drifted.

“I made them scream,” Peter deadpanned and Charlie and Amy shared a glance. Charlie's fingers twitched, almost wanting to take up the stake left on the table. He put his hand into Amy's.

“Not just them. There were birds, a raccoon and I _think_ a rat.” He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. Otherwise, he didn't move.

“Peter,” Charlie said, gently, “why didn't you tell us?”

“We would have listened,” Amy added.

“What was I supposed to say? How was I going to explain it? Justify it?” He turned to look at them, “I can't. I'm fucked up and I fucked up. I have no excuse.” He clenched his fist and Amy and Charlie jumped when there was a loud crunch of wood. Peter crushed the arm of the chair when he banged his fist.

His expression turned to one of deep sadness and pleading, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” he held up his hands, palms open, “I'm..I'm not going to hurt you. I swear. I...I don't know how to handle this.” His eyes went to the stake on the table, “and I don't want to.” He became serious.

“Charlie,”

“Peter, no! There's got to be another way!”

Peter laughed, “another way? When did we give  _another way_ to the monsters we hunted Charlie? They killed humans, we never gave them a second chance. And I don't want to run the risk of killing anyone at all. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I'll find a way.”

Quitely Amy asked, “Won't sunlight do it?”

Peter shooked his head, “Nah, this,” he gestured at himself, “is one of the rarer and strongest breeds of vampires. They...we...fucking sparkle in the sunlight. The skin is like...a diamond material or something. Point is, sunlight won't do it.”

“Then how is a stake going to?” Charlie asked, somber and serious.

“Figure a puncture through the heart would kill just about anything. If that doesn't work, do you have an ax? A chainsaw even? Chainsaw probably would work better.” 

“Peter,” Charlie stood up, going to kneel in front of his friend, “I can't do that. I can't hack you into pieces like you don't matter.”

Peter smiled at that, “thanks Charlie for that. You're a good friend. I need you to be a good friend and help me with this.”

“You're my friend Peter!”

“So weren't the bloodsuckers we killed along the way, Charlie. I'm sure they had loads of friends. Besides, you can make more and better friends than me. Someone who doesn't fuck themselves up so much,” Peter reached out and pulled Charlie into a hug. While it knocked the wind out of him, Peter was doing his absolute best to be gentle, like he was holding a kitten, “please Charlie help me. I don't want to die alone. I know it is a lot to ask, I know I did this to myself, but this is how I have to clean it up. Please.”

Charlie listened, let himself be held without struggle, and after a long pause he said, “if this is what you want Peter.”

“It is.”

Charlie withdrew, stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking between Peter and Amy before he let out a long sigh and picked up the stake.

“You can't really be thinking of doing this?” Amy shot up.

“He's right. He could hurt someone, kill them, Amy. He doesn't want this to begin with. If he lives do you think he wants to suffer like that?” The trail of tears ran down Charlie's cheeks as he stood straight, cleared his throat, trying to be brave for what he had to do. Amy fell silent, tears brimming her eyes. He turned to Peter, serious but awkward.

“Maybe we should go upstairs or something? Like the bathroom. Be easier to...to clean up.”

Peter nodded and stood. 

“Thank you, Charlie.” He turned to Amy, “It's okay Amy. This is what I want okay?” He did a bit of magic sleight of hand and from inside his pocket produced a napkin with a smile and gently dabbed her cheeks, earning a small smile in return.

She took the napkin and paused before leaning forward, kissing him on the cheek.

“Good-bye, Peter.” She whispered.

He gave her a wave and followed a very ashen-faced Charlie up the stairs.

–

“Should...should I get you a pillow or something?” Charlie asked, once again making Peter laugh, in turn making Charlie laugh albeit nervously.

“It's okay. I mean...no matter how you do this it isn't going to exactly be comfortable. Doubt the pillow would help much,” Peter dropped his suit and shirt off the side of the tub before climbing in. “Do you have enough plastic to wrap me in? Should you go get some? Remember, one of the hardest parts of hunting is the cleaning up.”

Charlie waved him off, “don't worry about it. Got plenty of stuff. Stopped hunting after a while so...never went through the supplies.”

Peter looked at his knees, bent because he was too tall to lay in the tub, “yeah, a pillow wouldn't have made this any more comfortable.”

Earning another bought of giggles from both of them though neither felt better about this situation.

Charlie gripped the stake in his hand, sweat making it harder to grip, as he looked down at his friend.

Peter's face had gone sober, stiff, red eyes unblinking and unnerving, as Charlie's heart began to race. Try as he could, he couldn't stop the instinctive fear at looking into the face of a would-be predator. So human but not. His friend about to die.

He didn't bother to stop his tears. Just like downstairs, they flowed. He managed to stop them briefly as he and Peter had arranged the situation, getting into the tub, but now they refused to stop.

The sound of cracking snapped him out of his doubt and he saw Peter's hands clenching the side of the tub hard enough that he was breaking it. Just staring at him. Eyes wide.

His heart pounded harder.

“Charles,” he whipped to look behind him to find a man with pale skin, red eyes, and long hair standing behind him. Voice smooth as silk and dominant, “move away from Peter please.”

Knowing better than to argue, he paid one quick glance to Peter before rushing out of the bathroom. The stake taken with him.

Immediately, Peter slumped back into the tub, head falling back against the back wall, eyes clenched tight.

“I fucking hate you,” he whispered as Aro fell onto his knees next to him. He felt both of Aro's hands cup his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones.

“I know,” Aro whispered back.

Peter damn near sobbed, cracking the tub further, “it hurts.”

The animal blood had been enough to keep him, while not satisfied, safe as he had gone to the town. Got directions, stole a motorcycle. However, ever since stepping into Charlie and Amy's house, smelling them...and just now with Charlie's heartbeat spiking...

“I know that too.” 

Aro pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Peter took hold of each of Aro's forearms and pressed his forehead against Aro's.

“I want to go home,” he said after a length of time.

“Of course.”

Peter didn't need help getting up out of the tub but Aro held him none the less. Lifting him into his arms.

He carried Peter with Peter not even bothering to protest, to struggle. In fact, despite his anger, he wrapped his arms around Aro's neck and buried his face into his shoulder.

“Peter?” 

That was Charlie. He could smell him and Amy and clung tighter to Aro.

“Peter is unwell,” Aro answered simply, “I am going to take him home, take care of him. I promise you that I will have him contact you in the next few days.”

He didn't wait for an answer before he carried Peter out the front door and into the night.


	19. Familiar and Foreign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it has taken me a bit to update. I am still very passionate about these characters, the ship, and the story, just needed a bit of a break from the angst lol. I admit that given my goals for this story is to ultimately have a happier ending, of sorts, there is going to be some aspects of light heart stuff thrown in. 
> 
> I apologize for formatting issues and an abundance of mistakes, I'm still not using my own laptop and my phone's features are still tedious.

The scent was familiar and foreign now that he could pick out the individual notes that comprised it. As Aro deposited him onto the bed, he could smell those scents embedded in the unwashed fabric. The bite of Aro's cologne, the long lasting baby power fabric softener, the tinge of his own, human, sweat.

Home. He was home, in his bed.

He retreated into the confines of the comforter, wrapping himself in a plush cocoon. Hidden.

Aro's hand stroked down his side and he said, "I'll be right back."

He closed his eyes with the hope that when he opened them he would awake from this nightmare. The pain, the burning, the heightened sounds as he laid there, poked and prodded his senses.

Aro was running the tap, the splash of water and chlorine tickled his ears and nose. The thump of fabric and click of plastic hangers loud to him despite being a room away. But oddly enough, he never heard Aro's foot falls.

"Let's get you out of those clothes," Aro said, and Peter, slowly, climbed out of the comfort of his hiding place. 

Peter allowed Aro to remove the filthy remnants of his tattered suit and run a wet cloth over the places where blood and dirt matted to the skin.

"I'm sorry dearest for not seeing to this sooner, I was occupied with other things at the time and at the home there was nothing in your size," he said, eyes flicking between his task and Peter's face as the other idley watched.

Peter noticed Aro's clothes, "I see you had a moment to change out of those jeans and shirt," he tried and failed to hide a smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Ah yes, I figured as I was home, came looking for you and you were not here, that I could spare a moment to put something more suitable on."

Peter snorted, "I could have been snacking on Charlie and Amy and you stop to change your outfit," he tilted his head for a better look, "and you brushed your hair!"

"I assure you I made haste," Aro's smile, small and timid, still nervous of Peter's wrath.

As Aro finished cleaning the grim from Peter's face, Peter said, "didn't think vampires could get headaches."

Aro finished his cleaning and tossed the cloth to the floor, retrieving a thong from bed, "typically no," he held it out and Peter put his legs through, "if you are expriencing one however, it can be caused by hunger." Next came a pair of sweat pants and an old AC/DC shirt.

Peter pulled the collar of the shirt over his nose and inhaled. At Aro's raised eyebrow he shrugged and said, "it smells like me."

Aro nodded. Then, with great reluctance but resolve, Aro said, "Peter, I'm going to get you something to eat."

"Don't!" Peter instantly stood in the door way.

"You need to feed. Remember what almost happened at Charles's home? If you do not find food, if you do not eat, what you wanted to do to him will happen to something or someone else. You _will_ lose control. This is not like a human hunger Peter. You do not grow weaker, you will not die from it, you will become desperate to be satiated. Especially as a newborn. Your thirst is at its strongest. To avoid disaster you need blood." He put as much patience as he could but a firmness that left no room to argue.

Peter was silent for a moment before finally saying, "I can't kill people. I can't. I can't let you kill people for me either. I can't do it."

Aro moved close to Peter, cupped his cheek, "listen to me Peter, you have to quench your thirst but, as distasteful as I find it, there are game large enough to satisfy it in the woods." He ran a thumb over Peter's cheek, resisting to point out that, when they had been living together as human and vampire, Peter had never asked him about his feeding habits, prefering a don't ask don't tell policy in that regard. Peter was already feeling sensative, vulnerable, and Aro did not need to push him any further than that, "you do not have to hunt humans. I won't make you. But you need supervision on these earlier hunts. You got lucky the last time, but a will, even one as strong as yours, can break with enough pressure." he didn't mean to look, usually kept his powers in check when it came to Peter, but given the circumstances, he peeked and saw the desperation as Peter had been running through the forest. He'd avoided killing the old man, Charlie, Amy, by ripping rabbits from the earth, snatching birds out of flight, or catching scurrying rodents, but that had been an impressive and hard to repeat bout of will. "I know that I have hurt you. I know that it will take a long time for your to forgive me, but I need your trust now. I can get you through the worst of this."

Peter closed his eyes, nuzzled into the hand on his cheek.

When he said nothing Aro prompted with a gentle, "Peter?"

He raised his hand to hold the one Aro had against his cheek, "I don't want this." He opened his eyes, "but I did it to myself. I crawled into bed with a vampire," he gave a mirthless laugh. "And fuck...I do love you." He gave a long, suffering sigh, "I hate you too."

"I know." Aro acnowledged.

"But," Peter pressed his forehead to Aro's, " _maybe_ I can learn to deal with this. If you stay with me."

"Peter Vincent, I swear to you, I will never abandon you nor stop loving you."

Peter brough Aro's hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss to the back of it.

"Cause you know I'd hunt you down and stake you if you did."

Aro let himself smile.

"Naturally. You are my brave hunter." He pulled Peter by the hand, spinning them around so that he was leading the way out the door, "speaking of, dearest, it's time for us to hunt."

Peter let himself be led, a queasy sense of anticipation, anguish, and relief squirming around in his stomach. But, if anyone knew how to be a vampire, if there was anyone who could lead him through this, it would be Aro Volturi.


	20. Very Good Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Aro share Peter's first real hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read, I appreciate it. I'm feeling less stressed, sad, anxious than I have been lately and now I'm feeling more comfortable returning to the angst.

As Aro led him through the brush, he felt the pressure of Aro's hand in his, the smoothness of his skin, but it wasn't cold like he'd gotten used to flinching at. Nor was it warm. They entered a space where the trees were not so thick yet they were still hidden from prying eyes. Once more, he found himself surrounding by the pounding of drums and mouthwatering scents. Filling him, overwhelming him.

"Peter?"

He blinked and lowered his head. While the sounds and scents set his teeth on edge, feeling Aro squeeze his hand, hearing his soft voice, it cut through the chaos and grounded him.

"What you need to do is close your eyes. Focus on the sound. Find the largest heart and follow it."

"How am I suppose to do that? The sounds are everywhere."

"It is instinctual. Once you force yourself to be calm, force yourself to listen. I will hold your hand the entire time and follow where you lead, ensure that your blood lust doesn't cause you to be reckless." Aro stood closer to Peter and took his other hand. "Close your eyes. I will be here."

Doing as he was told, Peter closed his eyes, focused on the sounds in the trees, on Aro's hands in his. Every chirp, squeak, growl, the rattle of dry leaves, and the many hearts, all assaulting him. Then, slowly, it started to narrow. Layers falling away.

"It's everywhere. It's too much." He didn't open his eyes.

"I know dearest, you must compartmentalize it. Put conscious thought into the back of your mind. Focus only on the the heart beats. Find the strongest one."

Peter was annoyed. He heard Aro the first time he said that, but what did that mean? What could he really do? He took a long, slow breath. He didn't need to breathe, but he still did it out of habit, and he found that it helped keep his anger centered when it threatened to crop up over the last few days. The sounds narrowed more.

After an agonizing eternity, he heard it. A rumble in the distance. Not human, jittery, a large, healthy, prey animal that stood out against the backdrop of noise. He opened his eyes and began to move.

Nothing else mattered, or was noticed, the trees blurred around the edges, vision becoming a tunnel as he followed the sound. It was like moving through a dream. Driving by purpose, floating rather than walking. Even the burn of thirst distant in his mind with the promise of it being sated. All that mattered was the hunt.

He glided over roots and jagged rocks, the sound becoming singular.

Then, the sound and scent of water and animal musk.

No conscious thought. He was by the stream. The buck didn't take notice of him as he sipped from the stream. In a flash, he was across the water, face buried into warm, dirty, fur. It was good. Better than good. Euphoria. Simultaneously high and yet so in the moment as he pulled in mouthful after mouthful, feeling the liquid rush down his throat. Body and mind, soothed, full, and then there was no more.

He slammed back into his body, the volume of the woods becoming normal, human, levels once more. He took a moment to study the sensation of blood moving through his veins before realizing he was still holding Aro's hand.

He lifted his eyes to Aro's and the other smiled, "very good, Peter. Very good."

Peter paid a glance to the deer's corpse, its eyes open. The wound on its neck small, "it was like I was outside my body. Floating along a track. I wasn't even thinking."

Aro used his free hand to dive into a packet and pull out a handkerchief. He began to wipe Peter's lips and chin.

"It's like that in the beginning. Pure instinct, over riding all other desires, using ever sense to satiate the thirst. How long do you believe we were out here?"

"Don't know," Peter mumbled honestly. When he was thirsty, it felt like forever he was anguishing, impatient to be quenched. When he was actively hunting, time slipped away, had no meaning.

"An hour. Not an extraordinary amount of time but without me here it would have been only a few minutes because you would have torn through the forest as you had before, encountered. As I said before, it was an impressive show of will when you avoided the old man and your friends. Now that you are here with me, experienced a proper hunt, you now understand," Aro put he handkerchief back into his pocket, "the importance of learning to control your urges. Yes, you are not quite there yet, once centered on the hunt you are blind to anything else, but at least you were focused on a singular prey this time. Your thirst managed. Soon, though, with your strength and practice, your mind will clear. You will be in full control of your mind and body when thirst sets in."

"Like you?" He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Relief or disgust that this would become easier, that he was a step closer to being like Aro yet still have the hope that it would be manageable. That, maybe, he could do this.

"Yes. Like me." Aro said with an infliction Peter could not be certain of.

"What's it like for you? The thirst, the hunt?" At some point, Aro had been where Peter was, feeling what he was right now, but the way he conducted himself now...how was it for an elder. _Easy_ , Peter's mind supplied. It had to be. 

"The same as it is for you. The same hunger and thirst welling up inside. However, my mind does not fog with blood lust. It is more of an irritate that gnaws on my psyche but is manageable."

Peter nodded, "when you drink blood?"

"I'm sure you know the answer to that," Aro's smile was small, pointed.

Peter took that in. Slowly, he asked, "what do we do now?"

Aro pulled him closer, touching his forehead to Peter's, "we go home. For now. We continue with your training. We will practice until you are in control."

"How long does that take?"

"Three months, approximately."

Peter closed his eyes and braced for the answer, "after three months?"

Aro hesitated before answering, "you severe ties with your human life and come to live with me in Voltera."


	21. Call Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter needs to call Charlie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost towards the end I think.

Three months. Not a great amount of time to mourn but time heals all wounds and, now, he had all the time in the world. Three months to get his powers under control, the rest of time to deal with the emotions.

Two weeks into the first month, returning home after a hunt, Peter decided to voice an idea.

"We don't have to go to Italy."

As they cleared the trees and feet met tar, Aro asked, "is that what you want? To stay?" No significant emotion could be plucked out of his voice save for perhaps pleased. He and Peter hadn't been speaking much since that first hunt and with this, despite not being a favored topic, Peter was breaking the ice.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and stared at his feet as they walked. He had thought about the _what_ and the _why_ when it came to this conversation. How he would give voice to his numerous concerns. Despite having rehearsed it in his mind, his delivery dropped the ball.

"I mean, I already own the house. Haven't been in it for long. Just started getting used to it."

Aro hummed but otherwise made no sound.

Peter, still unadjusted, still angry with Aro, uncomfortable, decided to stop the conversation with, "I don't even speak Italian."

Aro, knowing full well he was still in the dog house, was startled into a brief yip of a laugh.

He glanced at Peter. Peter glanced back.

Peter broke first, shoving a fist into his lips as he sputtered a few giggles. Followed by Aro's reluctant chortles. Until they both dissolved into peels of laughter, loud in the empty streets.

Once they settled down, they continued walking home in an amiable silence.

For the rest of the night they went into their own spaces. Peter had been avoid spending time with Aro save for their hunts, but with just a little of the tension broken, maybe there was a hope to get back on even footing.

\----

Two in the afternoon. Aro approached Peter's bedroom, hesitated, and knocked.

"Come in."

Peter was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't sleep anymore. Had a hard time falling asleep as a human without a tv going and now that I don't sleep at all....I should put the tv in here."

For the last few weeks, Peter hadn't brought up wanting to say. Hadn't said much. Silence. Small attempts from either of them to start a conversation fell flat. They hunted and when Peter did speak, it fluctuated between that jovial hopeful to the utterly passive aggressive, all in an effort to cope and save what scrapes of sanity he had left as he tried to adjust to his new situation.

Aro took it in stride. While he would never regret his choice to turn Peter, he did regret the circumstances surrounding it and Peter's feelings on the matter. So he would weather the storm of Peter's rightful rage. In truth, he was surprised he had yet to face real aggression. Perhaps when Peter felt more self-reliant, less vulnerable, he'd go off properly. 

"You have to call Charles."

Peter said nothing.

"He's already called your phone several times. He will be worried."

" _You_ can call him."

"He does not know me aside from the fact that I turned you. I doubt he would appreciate hearing, after weeks of silence, from me on your condition."

"That's a _you_ problem."

Aro rolled his eyes to the ceiling before composing himself, "I'm surprised that he hasn't come by to check on you himself. He doesn't strike me as a man of inaction."

Peter shrugged, "probably to scared to risk it since I crushed part of his tub and nearly ate him."

Crisp and cutting, Aro insisted, "call him."

Peter closed his eyes, "I don't want to hear his voice. I can't. You are _not_ going to make me talk to him when _you_ want me to say good-bye in the end."

Aro held his tongue.

Over the last few weeks, Peter powered through his hunts, uncomplainingly practiced moving at human speed and coming to terms with the differences between a human and vampire body. In some moments, Aro would find Peter seeming to enjoy the benefits of a strong, supernatural, body. He'd catch a little smirk when Peter lifted something heavy with no effort or when running through the forest, getting ahead of Aro, and all that could be heard was his giggling as he did so.

If this were embracing his vampirism, nothing would make Aro happier.

He knew this was not the case. Peter did not want to leave.

Peter survived. In defiance of the many close calls and in spite of those that wished him dead. He would continue to do so even in this new state. That meant unhappy acceptance.

He would adjust and survive.

And while he was avoiding Charlie, Amy, and Mike for the time being, Aro knew Peter was thinking of was to utilize his training to go back to them. To be _normal_ .

What Aro was uncertain of, and certainly he couldn't peek, was where he stood in those plans.

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out Peter's cellphone that had been neglected in the now unused kitchen for some time. He placed it on the night stand.

"Call him." He said one last time before leaving the room.


	22. Dear Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Peter can't call, he can write.

While Peter never saw it, he knew Aro kept the phone charged. It was always on and ever present. If in the bedroom it was on the night table. If he went downstairs to watch tv it was on the coffee table. A testament to Aro's skills to place it where Peter was, or was going to be, and was never caught in the act.

Each chime, each clipped off 80's rock song, however, went unheeded. 

Charlie. Every damn time he chanced to look at the caller id, Charlie.

He almost crushed it. Held it in his hands. It would take only the barest squeeze to shatter the screen, crack the plastic. Just to make it stop. He couldn't go through with it. His excuse to Aro, when asked, was that he needed it for bills and such. Aro arched an eyebrow and suggested that, if he didn't want to hear Charlie's voice, he could write a letter.

That's where he was now. He didn't have any notebooks laying around. Waited until early in the morning to buy a severely over priced one in a convince store the next town over just to be sure he wouldn't run into MIke at any point. 

Just yesterday, Mike had come to the door with his wife, a little basket in hand filled with movies, handmade socks, healthy snacks that would keep Peter occupied and help him recover. At least, that's what he heard them saying to Aro when the other answered the door and he hid upstairs, pretending to lay down.

"Just tell him we're worried about him."

"I will when he wakes. Thank you very much for your generosity." 

And now he was sitting at his vanity in his room, notebook open, blank.

What could he say? 

_Dear Charlie,_

He looked at those two words for what felt like forever before uncapping his pen and trying again.

_I'm sorry._


	23. Let's Go Somewhere

“I see that the flag on the mailbox is up,” Aro said conversationally as he took his place next to Peter on the sofa. 

“Mhm,” Peter’s eyes didn’t waver from the screen.

“I suppose that means you have written your letter to Charles then?”

Peter flicked to the next channel but otherwise said nothing.

“I’m glad to hear it. I know that he will be glad to hear from you as well.”

“Yeah,” Peter scoffed, drawing his knees to himself, “I’m sure he will.”

Aro sighed and gently reached out to rest his hand on Peter’s knee. Peter ignored it, but didn't push it away.

For an hour they stayed liked that, partially absorbed in their own thoughts and the monotone of the current narrator, when Peter stiffened and looked towards the window (blocked by blackout curtains).

Aro nearly jumped when he felt Peter's hand clench over his and too turned his attention to the window. He could hear it, the rumble of an older vehicle they'd heard many an afternoon.

It started, stopped, started, and stopped, until eventually it lingered at their home. The metal sequence of the mail box door and subsequent metal snap of it being closed, and the vehicle was gone.

Peter took a deep, unneeded, habitual breath and said, "now I know why you breath sometimes."

Aro tilted his head with a small hmm.

"Well, breathing is necessary for speech, smell, and it helps convey sentiment in conversation."

"Yeah, and sometimes you just need to stop and breathe."

Aro took in Peter's profile and turned his hand over to catch the other's fingers, "whatever happens, it will be alright."

Peter turned his head, facing forward, and for a moment, squeezed Aro's hand before saying, "let's go for a drive tonight. Get out of the house, get out of the woods."

"Where would we go?"

"Wherever," he shrugged, looking at Aro now. "let's just...do something together."

Aro tried, and failed, to keep from smiling. "I would like that."


	24. Carried the Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They just needed a moment together. They are still in a rough patch atm, but there is an effort there. Peter does love Aro, understands why he did what he did, and is coming to terms with it regardless of whether he wants to or not, and Aro does have some regrets in turning Peter mainly because the choice wasn't given to his lover, but taken. He wanted to turn Peter but under different circumstances. But, for now, they are spending time together.

Unlike previous drives, the radio was on. Rather than one of Peter's personally crafted CDsw of classic rock, an assortment of _catchy_ modern music and jingling ads filled the cabin of the car. The windows were open allowing a cool breeze to ruffle their hair.

As the moon rose, casting ethereal blue shadows of the trees, Peter drove as he stared straight ahead. He guided the car through muscle memory rather than conscious thought. Aro looked out the window, hands neatly folded on his lap.

They were approaching a neighboring town. Through the tree line, lights from business and homes dotted the landscape. A street lamp illuminated an off ramp.

The click of the turn signal came on. Aro glanced out of the corner of his eye at Peter who said nothing.

They found themselves on a little street of quaint homes. The faint glow of a tv in a few of the curtained windows as they drove past. A lovely rural street.

"Reminds me," Peter said suddenly, "of the time we had a flat. We were on a road like this."

"Oh?" Aro sat up in his seat, hands squeezed together.

"I still have that picture of you changing the tire. Where did you learn how to do that anyway?" Peter turned onto another street.

In truth, Aro could not consciously remember the exact date in which he learned how to change a tire. In fact, he couldn't be sure the memory was his. After thousands of years of collecting other's memories, their knowledge, he could never be quite sure what he had learned on his own and what he gained from others. 

"I'm not sure. I've been around for so long that I tend to know things from osmosis if nothing else."

Unperturbed Peter made yet another turn and asked in a rather gentle voice, "When was the first time you changed a tire then?"

That was something he could answer, "I believe it was in the early 1900s. I could be mistaken. Automobiles have been available for quite some time in many different forms. I recall steam powered vehicles," Aro chased the thought for a brief moment before getting back on track, "I had recently acquired a spindly little thing from America. Had it imported to Italy. Mind you, then and now I am not one for driving, but I did appreciate the science behind the machine and wanted to try it for myself. A whim of curiosity." 

Peter made a noise to show he was listening.

"Well, the first night it was taken out, it was such a noisy, bumpy thing. Interesting but not necessarily my cup of tea. The roads were not nearly as well kept besides and promptly ruined one of the tires."

"What did you do?"

"Carried the vehicle back home and looked over how to change it from the series of instructions and spare parts that were sent along as part of our order."

Peter laughed, causing Aro to jump. Peter stopped at a stop sign, looked at Aro, and promptly dissolved into giggles again, "I'm sorry," he managed, "just the idea...idea of you getting a flat and _carrying_ the car..." his head fell against the steering wheel as he laughed all the more loudly.

Aro felt his own lips twitch, "I could hardly leave it behind."

Peter howled and flung himself backward into the seat, covering his face with his hand, "oh my god."

Aro felt his own giggles rise and soon the two of them were doubled over with mirth.

"Carry the car," Peter said after he got himself under control. Without thinking, he reached out and took Aro's hand in his own, just holding it as he went back to driving.

Aro settled back in his seat, this time watching his lover from the corner of his eye, savoring the feeling of his fingers entwined with his, as they drove to no where in particular.


	25. Seduce an Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it has been a while but here's a new chapter.

The sun began to rise as they pulled into the driveway. Since the tension had melted with Peter's laughter, the rest of the drive had been spent in comfortable silence. Peter holding Aro's hand in his.

Once they were home, Peter shut off the engine, gave Aro a small smile, and then was right by the front door of the house.

"Peter," Aro gently chastised as he exited the car. All it would take is a curious early morning riser to be peeking out of the window to see the mad dash.

Peter paused, theatrically looked around them, at the houses across the street, and once satisfied, looked back at Aro and with a sharp little grin, winked as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Aro followed, at a human pace, and let out a surprised sound as he found himself shoved backwards against the door, slamming it shut.

Before he could speak, Peter's lips were on his. A fierce, devouring kiss as he took Aro's hips in hand, holding him in place.

"You know," Peter said as he broke the kiss, "I think the best part of being a vampire is," he kissed Aro's cheek, "not having to breathe."

Aro, too surprised for much else, replied, "it is a benefit. Yes."

Peter gave another hard kiss and in a low, lusty, voice said, "that, and I'm strong like you." He took Aro's hand, "let's go upstairs."

It had been, since time had slowed down, such a long time since he'd enjoyed Peter's intimate company and even then, it had only been a few scant precious encounters. In which, Peter had never been so forth coming. A level of apprehension coiled inside Aro as he allowed himself to be led up the stairs to Peter's room.

The blankets and sheet hardly disturbed. True, Peter spent long periods of time laying in bed, but with his supernatural stillness, the bedding was only slightly wrinkled. Until Aro was thrown onto it.

Peter was on top of him in a heart beat, lips kissing him, harsh and hard. He straddled Aro's thighs and began running his hands over the other's chest, dipping under his coat.

Peter forced him to sit up long enough to yank the coat from Aro's shoulders before shoving him back down and then ripping his button down shirt open, scattering the buttons.

"Peter!" Aro exclaimed.

"Aro!" Peter teased, as he pawed at the exposed skin. This was all fire no finesse, no romance, no true lust behind these caresses. As appealing as it was to have an open, dominate Peter, there was something wrong.

"Peter," he tried again, "not that I'm not enjoying this bolder side of you," he let slip a little sound as Peter's thumbs grazed his nipples, "but what has brought this on?"

There was no answer at first, Peter merely content to rove his hands over Aro's body.

At length, he shrugged and eventually said, "never really done this with you. Always you touching me."

"True, but why now?"

With a shallow smirk, Peter's hands stopped and slowly he leaned down, whispering into Aro's ear, "I want an apology. I want to hear you say I'm sorry."

Before Aro could form a response, Peter caught his mouth once more. 

As he was being kissed, he tried to follow Peter's logic. After long periods of no intimacy, of avoidance, of anger, now Peter wanted this? When he had all but avoided it when he was human? His fingers longed to capture Peter's, to travel into his mind and find the strands of his thoughts and string them together into a coherent quilt. To understand.

He wouldn't. He promised he would never read Peter's mind without permission and he intended to honor his word.

That left only one avenue to know Peter's heart.

Hands once more traveled over his body, trailing along his waist line before deftly undoing the belt, button and fly of his pants.

  
"Peter, slow down," Aro caught his hands, resisting the temptation to use his powers and his eyes caught Peter's.

Looking startled and confused, Peter feebly tugged at Aro's grip on his, "why?"

"This is not like you."

Peter stilled, becoming serious, "I've changed." He kept trying to free his hands, yet, despite his strength Aro's hold held.

"Yes, you have," Aro agreed, "perhaps rather than attempting to seduce an apology from me," he rubbed the backs of Peter's hands with his thumbs, "why not communicate with me instead?"

Peter turned his head, closing his eyes tightly, lips opening but the words dying.

Aro waited. In truth, communication, these deep raw emotions from himself and Peter was difficult to manage, to understand. In this short time since meeting and being with Peter, he'd been forced to truly feel, to listen, to push centuries, millennia, of pride aside, all for the sake of a serendipitous love with a dramatic creature. 

"I don't want to talk!" Peter growled, tossing his head back but had stopped trying to free his hands.

"Nor do I," Aro confessed, "but unfortunately," he sighed, "I believe we must.

Peter rolled his eyes and glared down at Aro. A sadness creeping into the eyes.

"Can't we just fuck and you say sorry and we move on?"

"Darling," Aro brought one of Peter's hands to his lips, kissing it, "I would much rather be ravished by and ravish you than converse. However, I believe you and I both know that a frantic tumble will not help us move on as you called it."

Peter said nothing so Aro continued.

"I know long, heartfelt, conversations are not something you enjoy but you need to talk to me. Before you break."

Peter made a choked sound, half way between a laugh and a sob, "I'm already broken." 

He rolled off of Aro and for a moment Aro thought he was going to leave. Instead, Peter buried his face into Aro's chest, "just....please..." he heard him say, "just tell me you're sorry."


	26. An Owed Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They really need to talk and so I've taken over a month on this chapter and I really do hope that it captures their voices, their feelings, and thank you for returning to read. I hope you are all staying safe and sane and I wish you the best.

How could he apologize for something that he didn't regret.

He did not, would never, regret turning Peter. Despite their copious differences, he loved Peter and Peter loved him. 

"Peter, know going forward that I love you. It is simultaneously the most difficult and simplest things I have done in a very long time. I will not go into the depths of what it means to love you but know that it is sincere. Doubt nothing of my love for you."

Peter laughed, "maybe if you loved me less, this would not have happened."

"Impossible, Peter, for me to love you less."

"Thanks," Peter snuggled tighter, "but tell me you're sorry."

"You want me to lie?"

"I want you to be sorry." His voice not angry, but did go up an octave.

"Peter...you were dying."

"And didn't you just _love_ the excuse!" Peter spat while still clinging to Aro.

"I'm not going to pretend that it did not present a convenient opportunity that forced my hand."

"Excuse," Peter deadpanned.

"Very well. An excuse. I made no secret of my desire to turn you..."

"I know!" Peter went to rise up and Aro pulled him back down to his chest. Peter only resisting for a second before allowing himself to settle back down.

"I would never have done it Peter had your life not hung in the balance. I had intended to respect your wishes. Perhaps if you were ill or dying of old age, I would have pleaded with you. I would have appealed to your reason, your love, your fear, but ultimately I would have accepted your natural decline and your choice to die. Circumstances were different and not ideal. You were not in your death bed, gray and tired after a long, satisfied life, prepared to let go. You were bleeding to death in my arms. You are so young and our time together has been so short. I..." Aro squeezed Peter tighter, "I was not prepared to bury you Peter. To dress your corpse, hold a funeral. Not yet."

Peter listened to all of this and found that hearing Aro explain himself, express emotional vulnerability, was a balm to his rage. Of course, he was still angry. But this was salvageable.

"You still need to apologize to me. You took away my choice Aro. I didn't want this. No one wants to die but I was prepared to do that. I...I don't want to be this."

Aro stroked his hand down Peter's back, "Peter, you are the same man you have always been. The only thing that has changed is your diet and some physical attributes. You are not a monster. You are not like Jerry and I promise you that if I can change, be less monstrous for your sake, you never have to descend into being a monster in the first place if you do not wish it."

"But what about your whole vampire mob family situation? What's going to happen with them now that this has happened?"

"I know that we have talked very little of my life outside of our own domestic circle but Peter, I assure you, that you and your own will never suffer ramifications from my family. When I left to pursue you first for business and then pleasure, my family was understandably upset. Things are settled for the time being however, I have had contact with them from time to time, and our family's status is still secured and we are free to proceed with our own lives."

"So...we're not going to have to move?"

"No Peter," Aro smiled, looking down to see Peter lift his face, "we don't have to move. Not for a while."

"I can still see my friends?"

Aro nodded, "yes, I have taken care of it."

"But...doesn't this break all your vampire laws and stuff? I mean, Mike and his family don't know but Charlie and Amy..." Before Peter could get worked up Aro bent down and caught his lips in a small kiss.

"I promise you Peter, you have nothing to worry about. There have been some...alterations to our laws. It led to much anger but I had told you we were attempting to be more merciful and patient as rulers to quell talks of rebellion. Hence my outsourcing hunting to you for deniability in the first place. We can stay in this house for as long as is reasonable."

Peter began to smile, "So...we're going to have to do old man make up when the time comes."

"If you'd like. You are rather talented with powder and lipstick I will say."

That made Peter laugh then and he inched up so his face was more level with his lover's, "still want to hear you say it. Even if it isn't true."

Aro lifted his hand and stroked through Peter's hair, "Peter Vincent, I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused you and I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you."

Peter lit up then, kissed Aro on the nose and whispered, "thank you."

"Thank _you_ Peter."

They proceeded to cuddle and kiss for some time, just enjoying the weight that had been lifted off of both their minds and Peter looking towards the future with much more optimism.


	27. And There Was Charlie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, dear readers, for joining in on this story.
> 
> Happy Halloween lovely peeps.

It didn't feel like the majority of a day had passed. The room was casted in low orange light as the murmur of coming home traffic milled about outside. Crickets began to sing and some children were called in to dinner.

They were there, in each other's arms, content to savor one another, to let all the poison in their relation drain as they traded barely there touches and kisses. Not speaking a word.

Peter was the first to stir from the day dream. He rose to his knees and smiled down at his lover. Aro's hair fanned around his head in a dark, silky, halo. His eyes spoke of love and contentment as he too stared up at Peter, reaching out a hand to trail along the other's jaw. 

Love. This was safety and love and for the first time in a long time since beginning this relationship, Peter felt his inhibitions ebb away. He gave into whim once more and dove in for a hard, wet, kiss. He pulled back almost instantly and cupped Aro's cheek.

"Since we're staying," his grin growing more mischievious, "you know what that means?"

Aro nuzzled into that hand without moving his eyes from Peter's, "what's that dearest?"

"Game night at Mike's. I know you've been talking to him for me. Keeping him updated on my _condition_ and now that I'm all better...you just know that he'll want us to go over there."

Aro laughed, "I suppose that means we'll have to bring Candy Land."

Peter snorted, "yeah, I still say you cheat. Now, I'll be able to keep an eye on you," he winked.

"Mm, that and I'll have to teach you to pretend how to eat. Either that, or we take our chances and swallow what is offered."

Peter's eyes widened, "we can do that?"

"Yes," Aro said reluctantly, "I haven't had need to do so in a long time mind, but I do recall the ordeal."

"Ooo, ordeal," Peter flopped back onto the bed, laying on his side facing Aro, who in turn rolled over to face him, "you make it sound dramatic."

"Not as such, more _unpleasant._ "

"How?"

"Human food, to be blunt, is awful. The taste and texture are like forcing yourself to chew thick ash. Then, once it is in your stomach, it cannot properly digest. It settles like a rock inside of you."

Peter became concerned, "how do you get it out? I mean, do we have to shit it out or something."

"Must you be crass," Aro tisked though there was no real bite to it, but then he shifted, looking a bit, to Peter's eyes, uncomfortable, "we have to purge our systems."

It took Peter a moment to catch the meaning, thoughts wandering to late night scrabble games with the beautiful bastard and his extensive vocabulary before realization dawned and Peter flopped back laughing.

Stunned Aro said, "do let me in on the joke, darling."

Peter laughed all the harder, barely able to get his words out, "purge...purge as in...puke." He rolled around on his back, "Dig...dignified...$400 suit...Aro...bent over a toilet like...like some frat boy after a kegger." He cackled, holding onto his stomach, grateful that he did not need air because surely he would suffocate at this rate.

Aro huffed, "you would also have to deal with the consequences Peter.

Peter got himself under control and sat up, hair delightfully messed up from his antics, "ah, nothing new for me. Late nights in Vegas and early mornings you know?"

He grinned when Aro folded his arms and looked away, damn near pouting.

Peter giggled and kissed his cheek, "come on babe, don't worry, I'll hold your hair out of your face."

Aro was about to retort when both of them stilled. Peter's eyes wandered to the open bedroom door, nostrils flaring as he took in a familiar scent. His eyes fell back to Aro, wide and panic etched into his expressive face.

"Shit!" He sprung from the bed and began pacing the room, "shit!" he cursed again when a knock reverberated through the house.

Aro was by his side, buttoning up his shirt, "Peter, calm yourself." He tried to place a hand on Peter's shoulder only for him to pull away as a louder, harsher, knock pounded on the door.

"It's Charlie!" Peter hissed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the room, trying to think.

"I am well aware of who it is."

"Peter!" Charlie's voice came, clear as a bell to his vampiric hearing, "Peter, I know you're in there!"

Aro caught Peter's hand, holding for a second before saying deadpanned, "please don't actually climb out of the window."

Peter snatched his hand away, "don't read my mind," he snapped, "besides, it's still bright enough outside. The neighbors would see."

"I'm sure the neighbors are seeing plenty right now," Aro casted a gaze over his shoulder as yet another knock came.

"Peter, come on man! Haven't heard from you in weeks. The last thing I got was this letter! You're not getting off the hook that easy." There was a pause, "I can wait! I can stay out here all night if I have to." Another pause. "Fine. Have it your way."

It was silent again, though the scent of Charlie, strong, youthful, tasty, was still there. He hadn't left. Not that Peter had thought he would. And then, there were these clicking noises. Like they were coming from the door knob of the front door.

It took Peter a fraction of a second to realize what was happening and went to rush down the steps. Aro couldn't help but be amused, watching this unfurl, that Peter, though he was very adaptable and often used his vampiric speed and strength unashamedly on their hunts, often forgot he had it. He was still so young yet, and he ran down the steps at a very human pace trying to stop Charlie from picking the lock.

Aro, smirking, went to the top of the landing in time to see the door open just as Peter reached it. And there was Charlie.


	28. Game Night Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that I'm feeling down lately and that perhaps this chapter is a bit rushed or not that great. I did work on it but there is something about it that I feel could be improved. I think the dialogue is alright but the in between, the descriptors, probably needed more variation. But, regardless, I hope that you like this chapter. We are soon, truly this time, going to be drawing a close on this story.
> 
> I just needed them to talk to Charlie.
> 
> Originally, I was going to have Charlie really go off on Peter but I thought about it. Charlie is a fairly mellow person in my mind. I picture him as controlling his emotions to an extent and being a forgiving person. So while yes, he's mad at Peter, his love for the man outweighs that because Peter is clearly happier.

Charlie straightened, tucking away the lock pick set.

"Hey," he said before pushing passed Peter into the house. He caught sight of Aro descending the stairs, "Aro," he nodded.

"Charles," Aro stepped off the stairs and extended his hand, "it is a pleasure to meet you under more favorable circumstances."

"Like wise," while both vampires could hear Charlie's heart increase, the young man didn't hesitate in taking the offered hand, giving it a firm shake. When they let go, Charlie turned to Peter with a small smile, "gonna close the door man or just stand there all night?" He didn't wait for an answer as Aro led him to the living room.

"Would you care for a beverage? I believe we have an assortment of alcohol and soda." Peter heard Aro offer.

"Soda please," a cushion on the couch let out a little puff of air as Charlie must sat.

"Peter," Aro called, "don't be rude. Fetch our guest his drink please."

Snapped out of his shock, he finally shut the door and answered dumbly,

"Yeah, okay."

With a breath he didn't need (but found the habit comforting) he rushed through the living room without making eye contact with Charlie or Aro and into the kitchen. Thankful, he had an older house where the kitchen was closed off and he could take a few moments to hide behind the door.

He opened the fridge and listened as his lover and friend made small talk.

"How was your journey?" Aro asked.

"It was alright. Hit some traffic on the highway, but it was fine."

"We didn't hear your car," Aro stated, curious.

"Yeah, well, Amy parked it on the next street over. Then I walked over from there. She's at the head of the street waiting for me to call her. Speaking of, give me a moment?"

"Certainly."

There was some rummaging, followed by a beep and then Charlie was speaking, "babe? Yeah, it's safe. Just come on in. We're in the living room. Yeah." He ended the call.

If Peter wanted to, he could have concentrated and heard both sides of the conversation, but he found that he was...it was hard to place. An anticipation mingled with a strange numb calm. Charlie was here. There was no running from it now. And that both made him anxious and yet relieving. Be it Charlie decided he was never going to talk to him again, or they would remain friends, Peter would know by the end of the night. Knowing the answer would take a weight off of his shoulders.

He could smell Charlie's wonderful scent, but it was muted, altered. Enough to still be tempting and identify him, but now that he could focus on it, it was like...

"Charlie? You take a bath in Axe or something?" He called as he snagged a can of cola and headed back into the living room.

"Hey! You taught me that trick!" Charlie's scrunched his face indigently, "mask your scent as best as you can. Ultimately a vampire will realize it's you, but it might buy you time. So," he gestured to his jacket, "I doused my jacket in a dozen different, really strong, colognes. And a couple of days before coming, I changed my diet completely. Should have done that for longer, but that helps change your scent. I bought new clothes. These clothes," he again gestured to his outfit, "are all clothes I bought on the way here so they'd have that store smell. I even wore different shoes that change how my walk sounds."

"How clever! And you learned all of that from Peter? Peter, you never told me you were so clever. Makes me question the moments of idiocy."

"Shut up," He gave Charlie his soda and went to stand near where Aro had sat in an arm chair. Aro reached out and took his hand, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to the back of it. Peter recognized the gesture for what it was and squeezed back his thanks before turning to Charlie, braver.

"So," Charlie held his can with both hands as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, regarding the pair, "how did you meet?"

The simplicity, the basic, average, human, aspect of that question in light of such a bizzare situation made Peter laugh. A sharp, startled, sound and before Aro could answer said,

"When this creepy fuck molested me in the middle of the night!"

"A gross exaggeration," Aro grinned, running his thumb of the hand he was holding.

With his free hand, Peter pointed at Aro, "he straddled my hips and pinned my hands over my head!"

"Merely a tactical maneuver to subdue an enemy."

"You sniffed my neck!"

"You did smell quite delicious, dear."

Charlie's laughter broke up the banter as he said, "clearly, love at first sight."

Peter snorted, "hardly."

"More lust than anything more romantic," Aro conceded, with a purposeful once over of his lover. Earning a nudge to his shoulder from Peter.

Amused and curious, Charlie asked, "what changed?"

It was then that Peter realized as he met his friend's eyes, there was no judgement, no anger, in Charlie's expression or voice. He could have kissed Charlie right then and there. 

Peter regarded Aro and contemplated his answer. It wasn't an easy question. It would have, as Aro would probably say, a delicate nuance, to it.

"I don't know. It kind of happened all at once but also over time."

Before Peter could elaborate, the scent of apple body wash and a natural sweetness, potent and strong, hit both him and Aro. The sound of flimsy boots clacking against the pavement before the squeak of the door.

"Charlie? Peter?" 

"In here Am's," Charlie called.

Amy came around the corner, arms held against her body, an overly large, compensating smile on her lips as she gave a cheery, "hey everyone."

"Ah, Amy," Aro rose from his seat, "a pleasure to meet you formally my dear," he moved a few steps forward as she cautiously came into the room, extending his hand.

Where Charlie, despite his nerves, hadn't hesitated, Amy eyed him dubiously before slowly accepting the handshake with a polite nod.

"It's nice to meet you too," she looked at Peter, "Peter, been a while." 

"Yeah," Peter smiled and Amy went to join Charlie on the couch, "want a drink? Soda, water, beer?"

"Beer," Amy said, "its been a long couple of days. We were talking about what to do, should we call, should we just show up, what should we do when we get there, it's been a lot." Charlie threw his arm around her and they shared a look.

"Beer it is," Peter returned to the kitchen and fetched the drink. In a moment, he was handing the can to Amy who jumped. Peter took in the widened eyes, the gasp of breath from both of his friends and realized what he'd done.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I...I know it's been weeks but sometimes I forget and having you guys here..."

Charlie held up his hand, "it's cool man. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah," Amy chimed in once her shock subsided, "no big deal." She popped the top on her can and took a long sip, when she pulled off with an _ah_ , she added, "so, what were you talking about before I came in?"

"True love," Charlie smirked up at Peter, earning a responding giggle from Aro and snort from Peter who went back to his spot next to Aro.

"That's interesting. We were wondering how all," Amy gestured with her can at the vampires, "this started."

"Oh, apparently with Peter pinned to a bed and Aro sniffing him." Charlie laughed.

"Sounds like a vampire romance to me," Amy added.

The ice officially broken, everyone lighter from the laughter, Peter finally had the courage to speak freely. He took Aro's hand again, squeezing it.

"You asked what changed. How this started," he searched his thoughts, "Aro approached with an offer. I hunt enemy vampires for him and I get paid. Enemy of my enemy. And, I was at this for months. On and off, Aro and I would...interact. Sometimes he'd come to my hotel and we'd get, well I'd get, dinner. Sometimes he'd just come and sit in my room claiming it was to keep me safe. There was that one time when I hurt myself and he gave me stitches. Scar's gone now. And despite some of the bullshit, the fact that he's a vampire...it just...clicked one night. At first, I didn't want it. There are a lot of reasons. I hated that I was attracted to him. I hated how safe he made me feel. Hated it. And then...I just...it just made sense one night. Then, as time went on, I realized how much he was giving up. How much he was changing. For me." Peter broke off and looked away from everyone.

Aro, once again, kissed his hand, and added his own thoughts, "I admit that my reasoning is just as complex. Forming attachments to humans, the domestic situation I found myself in, and what we are maintaining, is as unusual as it is fascinating. It is a wonderful change of pace to someone like myself who has never had the pleasure of quaint experiences such as cooking dinner, waiting for one's husband to come home, playing childish board games, and so on. To experience it with someone as amusing, as brash as Peter is, it is a gift. I admit that my attraction to Peter was physical at first. As time passed by, my curiosity was peaked. Then, I found myself truly caring about what happened to him. Bare in mind, it made no logical sense. For myself to have such a level of empathy for a mere human was outlandish. Yet, I was compelled by him. Drawn to his bravery, his flair for dramatic gestures. The contradiction of our union also had appeal. The heart wants what the heart wants and mine wanted Peter. I've always been honest with myself when it comes to my desires and decided to pursue a relationship with him." He looked around the space with his eyes, "as you can see, we've established a home. Not just a dwelling, but a proper home."

Charlie and Amy listened intently, drinks set aside on the side table. They contemplated what to say, what to think, and then, tentatively, Charlie spoke,

"How's that going? Are you happy Peter?" 

Peter met his eyes then and slowly said, "yeah. I am. I mean...I know...it's fucked up. What about this situation isn't, but," he nodded at Aro, "I'm happy. I mean, I don't kill people. Aro's not killing people," he left the anymore out, "and we're going to stay here for a while."

"Really?" Amy whipped her head back, "I mean, we were surprised that you were still here but we thought you'd move to some reclusive cabin in the woods. Especially with how Jerry was."

"Yeah," Charlie added, "hiding in suburbia. Thought that wasn't something vampires were suppose to do?"

"Ah," Aro held up his free hand, "vampires may intergrade themselves into human society provided they keep their secret. It is remarkable how easy it is to fool human beings when so many are willing to turn a blind eye. It is not like the old days when anyone and everyone could be accused of vampirism, including the long dead. Most humans will see pale skin and red eyes and assume a condition or cosmetics. Again, as long as they are not egregiously breaking the rules, they can carry on living amongst humans. In fact, it is more often than you realize." 

"Oh?" 

"Mm, yes, you can't expect all vampires to hide in the mountains now can you? Not when prey is so scarce in those locations. No, living amongst, or at the least, near humans, that's what we do."

Charlie rubbed his palms down his thighs and let out a nervous laugh, "don't know about you Am's but I'm officially creeped out."

They all shared a small chuckle before lapsing into a surprisingly easy silence.

Peter was surprised. This was going much better than any of the times he played it in his head. All the imaginings of Charlie shouting at him, Amy egging him on. And now, now they were talking as if it were the good old days of planning raids on vampire covens in dingy hotel rooms, bickering over who goes to get snacks from the vending machine. 

"Are we good?" He blurted, looking at Charlie and Amy, kicking himself for the random outburst. 

Charlie took a shoulder raising breath, "I mean, I'm pissed you didn't talk to us for weeks after you broke our tub. I'm pissed when you didn't tell us about this," he waggled a finger at both Aro and Peter, "when it first started. But," he paused, making up his mind, "you're not dead. That counts for something. Would have sucked if you had died. Provided you keep to animals, I don't see what the problem is so long as you're happy man." 

"You're serious?" Peter gaped.

"Would you like it better if I was shouting at you and calling you a dumb asshole?"

"Not really."

"Then we're good. One condition though, part from the animal thing."

"What?"

"You got to have us over and you have to come visit every now and again man. We've missed you. Yeah, you're a pain in the ass but Christ Peter, we care about you and would like to see you. Know how you're doing."

If Peter could cry, he would have in that moment. His heart swelled, "Charlie...Amy...I don't deserve you."

"No," Amy added, cheeky, "you don't. But you have us anyway."

Charlie held out both his hands, "sorry man. Stuck with us."

It was then Charlie's stomach rumbled.

"Oh, sorry. Was too worked up to eat before coming."

Aro stepped in, "we have an assortment of take out menus left in one of the kitchen drawers. We can easily order you something, our treat. Peter?"

Peter failed to keep his speed in check for the second time that evening as he rushed back, elated.

"Peter," Aro warned in a half hearted chide.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!"

This time, more braced, Charlie and Amy shook it off, ordered food and while they were all waiting, Peter suggested they play a board game together.

"Candy Land?" Charlie raised his eyebrow but otherwise took a spot at the table.

"It's a classic," Peter defended, "and now I'm going to be able to make sure you don't cheat," he nudged Aro.

"I assure you dear, you're just unlucky when it comes to this game."

"Don't worry Peter, I'll keep an eye on him," Amy joked.

Peter thought about how odd, how ridiculous this all was, but as Aro drew the red balloon, leading him very close to the end of the board on the first turn, "see! Cheater! Keep both your hands on the table!" He felt so happy. He had his friends, his lover, and he was going to stay here. This...this was stability. This was happiness.


	29. Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finally, finally!, they will be making love in the next chapter. There is little in the way for Peter to doubt, there is little to keep them from one another now. They have Amy and Charlie's blessing, they've talked, and now it boils down to Peter being ready to try. After all, it will be his first time both with a man and Aro. 
> 
> This is just the segway to placate any doubt the characters have and progress.

"You sure we can't convince you to stay the day?" Peter asked, watching Charlie put on his coat.

"Thanks, Pete, but it's probably better that we head out. It's early, less traffic. And we have plans with Am's mom." he said, zipping up his coat.

"But, we'll have to do this again and soon," Amy added, thanking Aro as he helped her put her coat on, "maybe with your friend Mike?"

Peter snorted, making eye contact with Aro. At Amy's and Charlie's confused looks, he waved it off, "sorry. It's an inside joke about dignity and food where Mike's concerned. As I said before, babe," he added to Aro, "I'll hold your hair out of the way."

"Hush," Aro replied with a smirk, "the idea has merit. We shall have to consider it and see what Mike has to say."

"We'd like to meet him," Charlie said. "Well, Peter," he stood in front of his friend, "see you soon?"

Peter, heart-swelling, held his arms open, "hell yeah!" 

The hug lasted a few seconds longer than necessary, but neither of them wanted to be the first to let go. At length, however, they both withdrew.

"Soon," Charlie affirmed before both he and Amy opened the door and left.

Peter listened acutely to each part of their departure. Their footsteps, the car doors opening and closing, their arguing over the radio, and then, all too soon, the engine started, and they were driving away. He stopped focusing on them once they reached the end of the street. 

Aro's arms came around his middle, "don't pout, dearest," Aro kissed the back of his neck, "we will see them soon."

Peter sighed and let himself relax into the embrace, "I know. It's just the first time I'd seen them for a while. One night wasn't enough."

"I understand," Aro placated, "just think of it as something to look forward to."

"You're right," Peter sighed again. He turned around in Aro's grip and wrapped his arms around the other's neck, "there is a plus to them leaving though."

"What is that?" Aro tilted his head.

Peter leaned in to whisper against his lover's lips, "we were in the middle of something when Charlie started picking the lock." He grinned when Aro made a surprised, delighted, sound.

"Were we?" Aro asked, light and coy.

Peter pulled back, sliding his hand down Aro's arm until he could lace their fingers together, "let's go upstairs." He began to move when Aro's grip stopped him.

"What is it?" He asked, confused.

Aro studied him, looking him in the eye, "earlier, your motivations were muddled. That, and numerous, emotionally draining, things have happened recently, even though you are more or less content. I would be glad to postpone any intimacy for the time being if there is any lingering part of you that holds doubt."

Peter grinned, "let me put it this way," with a flourish, he lept up, Aro easily catching him. "If you don't carry me upstairs, I'm going to pull you down and have you fuck me on the floor."

His laughter bounced off the walls as Aro used his supernatural speed to get them to Peter's bedroom.


End file.
